


Fallout: Forgotten Lands

by thetruecrystalvixen



Category: Australian humour, Fallout - Fandom, Fallout Australia, Fan characters - Fandom, Fanfiction of Fallout, Vault boy - Fandom, Vault-Tec - Fandom, War never changes - Fandom, radiation - Fandom
Genre: Australia, F/F, F/M, Fallout fanfiction, Fallout: Forgotten Lands, M/M, Multi, Rads, Set the world on fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 91,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetruecrystalvixen/pseuds/thetruecrystalvixen
Summary: When the bombs fells across the globe, America and China were not the only nations at war, other nations around the world were at war with neighbors over the remaining finite resources. This is the story of how Australia fell under the toxic tide of war, how the nuclear fire destroyed the rugged nation and how nearly 200 years later a small woman was set about to reclaim something lost to save her home... whether or not her home lived to see the fruition of her deed, time would tell.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and dropped it due to family complications and classwork.  
> Once again, Australian humor makes itself present here. I hope people enjoy this fanfiction, any and all comments are welcome.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of Fallout: Forgotten Lands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated, no matter the content. However I do enjoy constructive criticism and honest opinions.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Introduction**

War. War never changes.

War, the meaning of the word describes conflict of a mass scale, of misdeeds of a national and international conflict, the rendition of sorrow that follows for decades after. Even in the multitude of wars, humanity has held together enough to lick their wounds and delve back into advancement of their kind over and over. For decades as before war, it seemed like the world was becoming brighter.

Until the nations dispersed, overwhelmed by their greed

In 2052 the United Nations disbanded, the reserves of oil were depleted all across the world and conflicts for the precious black gold were breaking out across the globe. Without mediators, or the UN to advise and hold back the conflicts, war soon ensued between two of the most powerful nations; the people’s Republic of China and the United states of America, fighting for oil within their homeland. For the better part of a decade, this war was fought; there were no chance for peace and no way to stop the onslaught.

Across the world, other countries fought one another for survival, for their own needs, to defend their homeland from invasion. Since humanity held its greed and violence so highly, nothing would stop until their aggressors lay dead at their feet from their bombs. The world was overtaken by toxic irradiated fire and smoldered into ash. Vast oceans racked with rancid green filth, countries swollen by the rising sea and buried beneath glowing snow. One press of a button had caused the apocalypse of one country, igniting another across the globe, in which all felt the darkness and silence ensue…

For a lucky few, it was not the end of the world. It was instead, a prologue for a worse future than the one they left behind, a bloody and violent end to a new beginning. Some were lucky, lives spared from the fire in vast underground bunkers, known as vaults, to keep them safe and secure. Some vaults failed and opened prematurely, the inhabitants stepping out into the hell of the wastes, not to the hell they envisioned. Many vaults on the other hand, stayed closed, indefinitely.

Vault AU-24 was one of these vaults, one destined to be hermetically sealed.

 

**Fallout: Forgotten Lands**


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of the protagonist of Fallout: Forgotten Lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few jokes about Australia in this prologue, some about where the vault is, animals and general humor.  
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Prologue:**

So to begin.

Life is hard and full of difficulties.

This is a stupidity at best.

Which makes me even stupider for pointing that out. I don’t mean in the general sense that someone is a bully, or failing at a test- such as the G.O.A.T, though how someone can fail at it is beyond me. I mean in the terms of life and death, valor and the general struggle to take one day at a time and say to situations, _‘_ _Come at me!_ _’_.

Before anything else, I better had tell you of my home.

My ancestors were of the lucky 1,000 or so to escape the bombs of the war, to be sealed in a vault for safety for the rest of their lives and watch their family grow and spend their lives in the vault, having families and repeating the process. After a while, cyclical life is boring, day in and day out, even with the fun Pip-boy. Everyone from the age of ten got their very own Pip-boy (personal information processor), a very handy and valuable device, which was mainly to help you integrate into the job you later took on as a young adult. Well it would be handy for someone who had never spent their whole life in a vault. If you were born in a vault, you would be taught the layout before turning seven, so vaults are impossible to get lost in.

Especially with all the people around.

Besides, the only thing most of the inhabitants used it for were V.A.T.S (vault-tech assisted targeting) in games or sports. I myself enjoyed watching darts in the activities room, though when it came to playing darts, or being used as a target, forget it. Another normal Pip-boy feature was the radio. Listening to the Vault broadcast while doing work or jotting down notes was a common occurrence. Yes, using a technological marvel, powered by a mini-nuclear cell, for writing down a recipe for a simple sandwich is a wonderful thing indeed.

In my vault, Au-Vault 24, it was focused on farming. I have no idea why anyone would build a massive farm underground, and include several hundred cattle and pigs as livestock when the amount of resources needed would be astronomical. And yes, chickens were included, those demented little feathery nut-balls. People believe that they are cute, but their eyes say something ominous when they go nuts in a coop is a childhood drama I have no desire to repeat.

Along with the G.O.A.T (which is taken at the age of 16) there is the PST (Primary Skills Test), which is simply seeing what you are good at, and the K.A.N.G.A.R.O.O (Knowledge Application Notes of Gains And Rudimentary Observation of Oneself) which is combining what you know, what you are good at and recommending what position in the vault you should take. Which does sound good and helpful for any aspiring child. Of course, that is only true if the position you are regarded for has not been filled or has too many already in-line for apprenticeship. If you were an unlucky one, you would be placed in another position without a say in the matter, usually maintenance or administration.

Which was what happened to my older sister.

Anyone could apply for laboring in the farm levels. After all, the UVC’s (Ultraviolet-converters) that keeps the plants growing, which in turn keep the vault alive. Though, the vegetables and fruit are pallor in comparison to their counterpart images in the old documentaries and textbooks about agriculture. What I would give for real food from the surface, from real sunlight.

Of course I do not forsake what was the past, as it is out of my control and well beyond my skills to change now. I am bright eyed and bushy-tailed to be here.

In this tomb.


	3. Chapter One: Remnants of Civilisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The protagonist's life in the vault, where an error cause them to realize something was wrong in their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Australian humor makes itself present here. I hope people enjoy this fanfiction, any and all comments are welcome.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter One:** Remnants of civilization

 _“Because in Vault Twenty Four Zero Zero, no one ever enters and no one ever leaves.”_  

 

I smiled brightly.

With a forced toothy grin. Hoping my world didn’t shatter.

With a nervous sigh, I lowered my Pip-Boy down, to see my audience. Instead of seeing the forced smiles such as my own, I saw half the class was looking bored, a third were watching their Pip-Boy chrono meters and the rest stared at my with snide grins. Not good. I turned my head, facing the teacher at the front desk with a sheepish smile.

He looked at me, not a change in his face as he sighed. “Miss Winter though your rendition of your past life is good in context, the subject of the assignment was the historical analysis of our vault.”

I blinked, taken aback. I had talked about the vaults history hadn’t I? Why it was built, what we did day in, day out, even talked about sandwiches. Our vault made everything for sandwiches, how was that not history? I turned my attention back to my teacher. “I did analyse the vault, if I kept what else I wrote, we would be here until dinner.” I gave him my _‘Please-don’t-give-me-an-F’_ grin.

He raised an eyebrow at me, which sent his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Miss Winter, may I ask what you kept? How much more was there?” he questioned me.

Cautiously, I shifted my eyes, glancing at my Pip-Boy, seeing the green glowing numbers nearing lunch. This would save me the embarrassment of telling him that I had written a good and fair presentation, but complications had made my final speech unusable. Thankfully the bell rang, signalling lunch time for all students, teachers and security personal on B shift. “Sir, with all due respect, I talked about all topics listed,” I managed a small smile as I spoke; “I could stay after class and explain it thoroughly.”

He tapped his pen against the name plate on his desk, I read MR. REINARD at least seven times before I heard his sigh, his _‘I am disappointed in you.’_ sigh. “Very well miss Winter, after class this afternoon.” he smiled as he stood up, looking at the rest of the class. Who were all packed up five minutes ago and were grinning at the exchange between myself and Mr. Reinard.

Brilliant Ambi, just fabulously brilliant. Give yourself a cookie.

“Class, go to lunch. I expect you all to have already finished your historical essays,” Reinard chuckled and waved his hand at the other students as they started to leave with grumbling tones. “Now, now. Essays are boring, but they count towards what shift duties you receive.” That quieted them. Everyone hated shift duties; I think they were called ‘chores’ before the bombs fell. I always ended up with the worst jobs; cleaning duty, garbage disposal and the like- no matter how good I do in tests and homework.

As I walked out of the class, I fiddled with my books, taking a left I headed down the hall that lead to the cafeteria. To me is always seemed that Vault-Tec were thinking logically when they designed vault 24’s layout; the cafeteria, training rooms, and classrooms were on the same level, to keep students were they were supposed to be I suppose. As I trudged along, listening to my classmates’ laughter, I wondered if I could tell Mr. Reinard the truth. Or a hastily constructed half-lie.

“Did you hear? Some of the crops died. I bet it was something in the air filter.” A brown haired boy with a cap told his friend beside him.

A tall boy frowned beside him, “I thought it had something to do with that infection the cows got.” He replied, looking at me. “Speaking of infection…”

I turned my head away and walked past them, towards two women. One was comforting the other as she cried into her shoulder.

“There, there Cheryl, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Cheryl, a dark haired women hugged the taller women close, “I don’t know how Wilamena can be so strong, this is the second stillborn she’s had.”

The taller woman looked at me, “Sometimes people aren’t lucky.” I bowed my head and nodded in sympathy to Cheryl. Her sister was stronger in spirit that her, perhaps not in body as she was.

While I was pondering, I didn’t notice until the last second that I had passed the twin terrors of my life, Marko and Melanie Gale.

“Hey Snowflake~” Melanie sing-songed, slipping her arm over my shoulder, pulling my body close to hers. “How did the conversation with teacher go?” she smiled, playing with a lock of my hair as her brother moved to my other side, just staring at his sister and me.

Her game was simple; play nice, manipulate me and pry secrets and details out of me to use later in her nefarious plans, as I had been the butt of many of Marko’s pranks over the last seven years. The worst thing of all was that we were once content with each other when we were children, I just didn’t know what went wrong to change that. I could of course get help from security. Which was a bad idea, considering that both of the siblings were prodigies in their fields; one was a hacker, who dealt with difficult program bugs in the vault mainframe. The other was an entertainer who sang in the activities room every Friday. Not to mention that their mother was the Overseer.

I was in deep cow dung. I smiled sweetly, farcing compliance. “It is okay.”

A grin spread across her cheeks, which was followed by a sharp pain that burst through my hip as Melanie dug her fingers into my side, leaning her head against mine. “Oh Snowflake, do not even consider lying to me. I do not like being lied to.” She said sweetly, digging her nails deeper into my side with every word.

Marko had the audacity to pat my hips and go through my pockets, drawing out my Butter-scotch. He took a moment to look at the bright sunny orange packaging then slid it into his pocket and continued his search for anything I had. Which was stupid, I knew better that that to keep anything more than candy and bobby-pins on me when I wandered around the galls and rooms of the vault on the off chance that I came across someone who wanted to check my pockets. “No going to tell on us are you?”   I tilted my head slightly, hoping that looked a vague yes-no.

They both leered at me.

I vacantly stared back at them, well sort of cockeyed, considering I had a problem with my sight sometimes, until I spotted Nathan Garring trotting down the hall in front of me. He was nose-deep in a magazine, _Call that a Knife_ , about melee weapons when he unceremoniously bumped into Marko.

“Sorry, sorry-” he started as he looked up into Marko’s red, ever so slightly freckled, face. “Oh. Marko and Melanie.” He nodded at Melanie stepping to the side, extending his hand down the hall behind him. “I believe your mother was asking whether or not you two were looking after your cousin.”

Melanie loosened her grip and pulled away, I sighed under my breath. Felt so much better not to be stabbed by her tough as iron nails. I swear that girl could cleave flesh from bone.

“Nathan.” Marko grunted, walking down the hall, leaving his sister standing beside me.

She looked at Nathan and smiled the smile that she used for everyone else but me. “See you later Nathan.” She looked to me, something akin to grief and anger flitted across her face, “Goodbye Winter, next time I will get that information with earthly delight.” she cooed too sweetly, words dripping with poison as she walked away on the balls of her feet with her long golden hair trailing behind her.

I stood there with Nathan in silence for a few seconds; it was awkward after Melanie’s veiled attempt at implied torture or perhaps implied rape. Either way, I was scared of her. I shook my head; dragging my mind away from those thoughts I noticed that Nathan was waggling a hand in front of my face. “Whaaaaaat?”

He smiled, taking my hand while pulling a dozen Butter-scotch candies from his pocket then dumping them into my hand. “Thought you might want these back.”

I blinked, “Bought for me?” I knew that Nathan sometimes, ‘borrowed’ things without asking, I just hoped these were bought with guilt-free credits from the vault Canteen, and not from someone’s pocket or room.

 He gave me his trademark sly smile and tapped the tip of his nose, “Need to know basis.” He chuckled, pulling up his magazine to resume reading and walked away towards the cafeteria.

Leaving me more confused than ever, was he a thief or was I just ignorant?

***        ***        *** 

_Denied._

I leant my head forward and sighed against the cool metal of the auto-dispenser. I raised my wrist, rubbing my Pip-Boy 3000’s screen gingerly, removing any grime or built up dust. I tried on the off chance waving my arm under the scanner again, hoping it was just a smudge on my Pip-Boy’s screen.

_Denied._

_Warning, lockout if repeat access with Pip-boy of insufficient Vault-Tec work credits._

_Please contact certified Vault-Tec terminal technician._

Closing my eyes, I bit my lip, tapping the Vault-Tec cafeteria screen. I despised this. I barely ate as it was, barely scrapping a meal for dinner and an orange for breakfast, and the twins had once again looted my meagre amount of credits and I had. Of course that Marko looked like a debonair pretty boy; he had surprising hacking skills and could easily manipulate what shift I got and what amount credits I received. He did this rarely of course, as it would arouse suspicion if I was constantly having the worst of the worst shifts when my grade averages were C +’s across the board. Albeit, I wasn’t exceptionally good at math and science.

What I wouldn’t give for a plate of Meat and potatoes.

I stood there for a few seconds longer, and trudged away across the immaculate checked tiles and sat next to Nathan who was talking with a burgundy haired girl named Jene, about maintenance issues and why using Wonderglue for garnish would be a bad idea. I vaguely paid attention, bowing my head in my crossed arms, vainly trying to ignore the scent of his toast and her steaming bowl of soup beside her unopened sandwich.

“Someone pilfering you credits again?”

I looked up into Jene’s dark brown eyes and shook my head. No need for her to worry. My stomach disagreed and rumbled loudly, spreading a blush across my face. Digestion gave me away, which wasn’t the first time that my digestive systems has rebelled in contradiction of my wishes for it to be quiet. When I was 8, bullies had chased me into hiding in a maintenance air duct where I managed to hide for hours while the bullies had hung around looking for me on every level. I was content and safe for hours, my stomach had always groaned louder than any average person when I was running on empty, and always at the worst possible time.

Jene politely smiled, pushing her sandwich over to my side of the table, while Nathan plunked an orange between my elbows. I blinked and smiled broadly, as I tore the wrapper off the sandwich, devouring the chicken-salad sandwich with gusto.

“Youssh soo goodf_!” I said between bites and hacked, swallowed the mouthful and banged on my chest. I smiled sheepishly at the two table companions and shrugged.

“I think we should perhaps make a stockpile of food for you…” Jene smiled with a shrug, “After all, mum would kill me if her little sister died from a lack of food.”

 “She would eat all of it within an hour knowing her,” Nathan chuckled, tapping my stomach with his rolled up magazine, “No idea where she puts it all, or why she is so shrimpy.”

 I frowned and puffed out my cheeks.

I wasn’t short… I was less than 4 centimetres shorter than Jene, and she was a year older than me. Giving me an apologetic look, Jene sighed, she knew what he really meant by the shrimpy remark as did I. I looked more like a child than a 17 year old. As it was, at my last physical, I barely broke five feet, and by barely, I mean by one millimetre. Besides being a midget, I was as skinny as a rake, with large eyes and child-like features that made most of the other Vault residents call me the ‘Little Farm Girl’. Which, was uncalled for, everyone was practically a farmer in the vault.

My cousin’s looked at me, knowing very well how sensitive I was about my height, they opened their mouths to apologize as I stood. Huffing, I left the table with a vague excuse about needing to go to the bathroom before class and made my way down to the training room.

***        ***        *** 

“Alright ladies, you know the drill; aim, time your shot and reload.”

An unbridled huff of agreement went through the line of teenagers, all taking stance and steadied their positions on either side of me. “Alright, on my mark,” the platinum blonde arms teacher barked as she pulled a headset over her ears, the green bar shading over her eyes as it remotely linked to her Pip-Boy. Raising a hand she counted down from three to one as a green light blinked above her.

The dozen or so students shot the targets with varying degrees of accuracy; some shot near the edges, some several feet of, while others poured through their rubber bullets like air. After 2 minutes of multiple targets, most of which were stationary bullseyes on turnstile, the woman raised her hand as the light above the targets flashed red.

“Okay pansies, stop your shooting, eject your clip and chamber, hand in your guns and get back to class.”

I stood back, waiting for the other students to pass me and return their guns to Clarisse; who promptly checked the clips and chambers for stray bullets, ejecting them into a large round plastic bin to her left and gingerly placed each gun in a large tray to her right. As I watched the last of my peers go, I wandered forward and handed the 9mml to her.

Regarding me with cools eyes; she ejected the empty magazine and chuckled, “Doing better out there Ambi,” she smiled, checking the sight before placing the gun away on the tray and tapped a button for the tray to recede into a long footlocker built into the wall.

I shrugged, “No better than usual.”

Clarisse sighed, locking the footlocker and stood, ruffling my hair. “Just hold on Amb’s, everyone finds their calling.” I looked at her blankly, unfazed from the talk she had given me so many times before. “Well, you know I’m right.”

Shrugging, I plucked the headset off her head and placed it on the bench next to her, “If only it were that easy.”

Giving me her calmest ‘Listen to you older sibling.’ look, she punched my arm lightly with a wide grin. “Amb’s, I know things get tough for you, you have to remember that it always works out in the end for you too. Just have faith in yourself.” her light eyes sparkled with confidence at this ‘awe inspiring’ …advice.

That, I always found hard to believe.

Faith in one’s ability and invisible forces such as luck, God or some other religious divinity were irksome to think about at any time, even more so when having to believe in them. Let alone the thought of having to rely upon in times of distress and desperate need made my brain hurt with the need to throw my hands up and accept it all blindly. I just sighed and nodded. “I’ll try to.”

“You’ll try to try,” Clarisse smiled, untying her ringlet hair, a wave of white-blonde flitting over her muscled shoulders, “And that’s all that counts with me. That you try and do your best.” We both smiled and then she snickered, “If you manage to win something, don’t forget to share it with your favourite big sister.”

I chuckled and couldn’t help to give her a big grin and a hug. I loved my sisters, even if they had the luck of normal names and greater height than I did. Though, I could blame genetics on my height, my name could be blamed on my mother. “So, are you going to see Bell?”

Clarisse nodded and sighed, motioning me out of the room and locked it with her key card, “How she and Gasper got sick is beyond me. I mean they are both borderline neat freaks.” she paused and snicked, “They keep their socks in little rows in their dressers.”

With a small laugh, I added my own joke. “Considering that Gasper is a scientist and on occasion nurse, you would think he knew how to not get sick.” We laughed and continued the jibs at our sister and our old friend into the hall until we reached the elevator; I pushed the button and frowned.

“Hey Clarisse?”

She looked down at me, “Yeah?”

“Why were you looking in their draws for? Did they take your Badlands novels again?” I asked, knowing that out of all of my family, including Gasper, Nathan and Jene, that Clarisse was the biggest fan of Badlands. An extremely popular a pre-war board game that centralised around a holocaustic world that people could play in as characters they create. Truthfully, even though it was extremely fun and creative, I found it a little macabre in circumstance. Considering there was an apocalypse and all.

My platinum haired sibling looked back the elevator as it opened and dinged. I followed her in and stood beside her, listening to the wonderfully boring sound of moving parts and buzzing electronics around us. I looked at my sister from the corner of my eyes and frowned. Maybe I was being too personal or rude.

Clarisse smirked, sparing me one glance from the corner of her eye and back to the doors. “I was looking for porn.”

My older sibling grinned as my cheeks bloomed bright red from embarrassment.

Even with her quirks, I adored her.

***        ***        ***

An insisting alarm buzzed into my ear.

Irrefutable beeping that would not let me sleep for just a few more minutes. With my eyes still closed, I slapped my hand over my Pip-Boy alarm, pleading for it to be quiet for the next twenty-four hours of my life. Groggily I rose, rolling out of bed and stumbled to my feet. I stretched my tired muscles, glancing around across from my bed into the living room; I noticed that my mother had already left for her shift.

Figures, she was always an early riser.

Checking my chrono as I grabbed a clean jumpsuit, I realised that I was early for the day for once. After taking a shower in the communal bathroom- and after walking in on Jene doing her impression of an upper class student PMSing over the remark on a chalk board about the promiscuous habits of her pet dog, my day was off to its usual sanity kick. Luckily, it was the weekend. This was usually just wandering around the vault, finishing homework, watching one of Melanie’s performances, work detail and chatting until Monday rolled around.

I wandered across the hall to my sister’s apartment and tapped on the door. I tilted my head side-to-side and hummed a tuneless melody until the metal door split apart and slide their respective ways. I stopped and smiled awkwardly, looking into the face of the head scientist.

“Hello Winter…” she gave me a taut look, with a trademark sigh of aggravation as I looked everywhere but her face; I stared at the wall, my feet and her name tag too, which I found a bit ironic. Consider if you will that it is purely ridiculous of having a name tag in a vault considering that Pip-Boy’s had all the tags, information and date at hand when it was turned on. Just look at tag of another Pip-Boy user and bam- you know that’s right in front of you.

“Mrs. Walker, is Clarisse in? I need-”

Before I got any further, Mrs. Walker looked at me and I shut my mouth. “Clarisse Winter has caught the contagion that Belle Winter and Gasper McBree caught several days ago. I suggest you go back to your quarters and finish your week-end assignments if any are incomplete.” she instructed me sternly before turning away briefly, picking up the lead of my sister’s blue Cattle dog, Socks and handed it to me. “Look after him until they are deemed healthy to return to their quarters.”

Crouching I pet Socks behind her ears as I watched Mrs. Walker walk away, I noticed her fellow scientists were taking samples of Clarisse and Belle’s apartments and packing them into a doctor’s bag. I smiled; as I knew who the scientist was, no mistaking him for anyone else in the vault. Giving Socks one last pet, I stood, taking a deep breath just as the scientist stood up and stretched his back.

“Gasper you’re better!” I cried, throwing my arms out and around him from behind as Socks bounded to our side and wagged her tail then sat on Gasper’s shoes. I buried myself into his crisp and clean lab coat, with a big smile that stretched from ear to ear on my face.

With a short chuckle that rumbled against me he sighed, “If that is a little girl who hid in my air-duct last week, she should let go of me before Doctor Johnson accuses me of fraternization.”

I sighed, letting my arms fall to my side and rocked back onto my heels with a smile as Gasper turned around to face me. “Will you drop by Medical with me later? I want to see how Belle and Clarisse are doing.” I asked my ginger friend with a small smile.

Gasper shrugged as he waved me out of the room, with Sock’s lead in hand, “I wouldn’t bother anyone in Medical for that, and it could be contagious after all.” He hinted, nodding at me. Ah, yes, I wasn’t born exactly healthy. Born several months early to a stressed mother in not the best situation didn’t help either. As it is, I had a high tolerance for illness, if I caught something that sapped strength out of me, I would be in trouble, I could barely count myself above being weak enough to have a bone disease.

I was only stronger than a corpse by sheer chance and without an injection of a cocktail of drugs; I would be weaker than I am now. Case in point, how bad could it be for Belle and Clarisse? I mean everyone; including me has had the chicken pox, and all injections to fight everything else from Measles, Whooping cough, to the flues. What would make my healthy, strong sisters sick? “What about their shifts?”

Gasper gave me a look. Of course, that would most definitely already been taken care of. Belle worked on the Harvest levels with plenty of other people and considering it was nearly the summer phase of the harvest cycle there was not much going on that hadn’t already been prepared and done weeks ago. Since Clarisse was in Security, she had several others to temporarily take her place and swap her shift for another slot later. “Okay, I’ll stop bugging you.” I sighed and wandered back to the quarters I shared with my mother with Socks and spent a lot of the day playing with her and studying.

***        ***        *** 

I didn’t get it.

Clarisse and Belle were still in medical isolation after several days, and every time I tried to see them, Doctor Johnson and the Overseer would turn me away of suggest I go back to my quarters and wait it out. I knew something was going on…

I was supposed to trust the Overseer, trust her with my life.

***        ***        ***

_Before the dawn,_

_The walk of the lonesome soul,_

_Walking onto the rising day,_

_Searching for my way~_

_Back to you~_

_The sky opening to the clouds of grey,_

_My heart beats in the twilight of the dawn,_

_One step after the other,_

_The light shining over the horizon~_

_Back to you~_

I lay on my back, my eyes closed as Melody’s sweet voice sang into the cafeteria as her song echoed as it ended, leaving the last notes hanging in the air. If someone questioned my reasoning for caring about the pair of twins who bullied me on occasion, I had inkling to why, it wasn’t my place to judge them for whatever they do to me when I may or may not know why they do what they do.

A warm voice filled my room, flooding it with the soft sound of human speech again, instead of the soft hum of the lights above me that ‘simulated’ sunlight. “That was _Sunrise_ , by our one and only Melanie Gale.” the Vault-Tec Certified Public Announcer mused aloud. I could swear that Vault-Tec was making a joke when they slapped certified on everything, certified Toaster Repair Technician, Certified Garbage Disposal Specialist. Even the Cleric was a certified by Vault-Tec. Either they were joking, or they were being preposterously serious.

“A newer addition to Melanie’s collection of songs, included for Friday’s concert I am sure. Anything to add Miss Gale?” the announcer questioned her. Huh, must be around 7 AM if she’s talking to him live. No, maybe it was recorded earlier or yesterday, to give her time to prepare for school this morning. Must be Wednesday morning, at least I thought it was Wednesday; I always forgot what date and day it was half the time. Thank the Stars for Pip-Boys; I would be lost without one.

“Thank you Andrew,” a sweet, silky voice replies politely, “I do have some notes to address. Firstly, please, call me Melanie.” she laughed gingerly, soft sound it makes me smile. I hate that I ever caused her tension and irritation.

Straining, I heard a nervous laugh, barely audible at all, “Ah, well. Every time I do, just reminds me of how wonderful your music is. Your second address?”

“Yes, my second, I hope that many of my fellow Vault-Twenty-Four residents are going to attend the show this Friday. I do regret that many of you cannot be there in person, though I know that Andrew can keep you all entertained when I prepare for the performance.” Melanie expresses sincerely.

The announcer chuckles, “Well, I’ll do my best. Now Vault residents as usual when buying a ticket, you cannot buy one for another performance unless there are no other residents that do not wish to attend; as ruled by the 4th Overseer after the incident in 2152. And with that, it’s 7:30 AM, time for everyone to get up and begin their day.” The Public Announcer’s station changed to automatic listing of Vault shifts for this morning as I sat up out the booth I was lying in, stretching out my body.

It was a week since talking to Belle and four days since seeing Clarisse, I sat in the cafeteria at lunch with Nathan and Jene for a cram session. At least I could get help for the stupid math test coming up. Who puts an Overseer question in a test? Out of two hundred questions, out of twenty that are multiple choices, was it that hard to think of something else other than Overseer for the last one? It didn’t seem like education related to me.

With a huff, I looked up at Jene, who gave me her classic look of resignation. “Ambi, either stop that huffing, or just get over it. I miss my mother too you know.” She looked back down her textbook and flipped over a page. I looked to Nathan as guilt flooded through me.

I shouldn’t have overlooked that Belle was her mother, biological or not, she was her mother. Pouting, I hung my head in shame and embarrassment for my stupidity. “Sorry Jene, it’s just weird.” My study partners gave me a look that bordered on understanding and pity.

Nathan sighed, placing his pencil down on his textbook and lifted his Pip-Boy. He fiddled with the button and knobs; a click and a beep every few seconds was the only sound between us. He gave me a smile and pulled out his Pip-Boys access cable and opened my Pip-Boys port and plugged in the cable. “You can track a person by their Pip-Boy tags, similar to Friend-or-Foe that connects to the visual display.

Jene shuddered, “It’s just weird to think that the data scrolls across our eye-balls.”

Jene of course had a valid point. That was one of the creepy things about Pip-Boys I agreed with, that and how a Pip-Boy knew what I had in my pockets. I theorized Pip-Boys produced small ‘waves’ of energy, like a radar, through the clothing and was able to detect an objects structure. That, or it had pictures of objects as samples in its massive data-storage.

Nathan gave me a smile; I had zoned out again for the third time that day, “So what can that do for me?” I asked as he snapped my Pip-Boy’s port closed and wound the cable back into his Pip-Boy.

He grinned, waving his hand at me, “I can access the Medical security camera and records from an access terminal down the hall. You just need to go be you.”

Be me?

What did he mean by that? Should just ask stupid questions to people near the terminal? My curiosity was piqued, I had nothing else to do at the moment, even if I did, I wouldn’t resist something so interestingly fun. “Be me?”

Jene chuckled behind her hand, mischief in her eyes as Nathan stood gathering up his books and work. “Distract them.”

***        ***        ***

I stood outside Medical, taking a deep breath; I then entered and smiled sweetly. “Hello Maribel-” I blinked. Instead of the usual brown haired woman being at her desk to greet any patient, visitor or medical personal as usual, she was standing near several charts over by the far wall next to empty stripped beds and talking to Mrs. Walker.

Looking through the doorway, I noticed that Isolation room A, B, and C were empty. “Mrs. Walker,” I inquired, mistrust and ire flaring up in my voice, “Where are my sisters?”

The black haired woman eyed me, turning her body to face me. “Your siblings are in confinement. They are being monitored in the lab.” Her eyes twitched, creasing her barely age brow. I swear that she and practically every other adult over forty in the Vault had some age defying gene in them. The woman in front of me was just a few years prior to fifty after all.

I crossed my arms and activated my sister’s Pip-Boy tags; they did not point North-West as expected. They were in fact facing to the South-East. I stared into Walker’s eyes, she was lying to me. “Please, tell me where they are.”

Walker glanced down at my Pip-Boy, putting two and two together. She snatched up my wrist as I tried to dodge away from her reach, pushing her away from my arm, which was redundant because I wasn’t exactly strong. She held my wrist and flicked through the multiple screens, accessing the deeper information and moved her fingers rapidly on the buttons and knobs. “You are not privy to this information, as of three days ago,”

_Delete selected items? Pip-B///////_

What was she- I shifted my head and looked again, as the overhead lights created aa glare.

_Delete selected items? Pip-Boy tags?_

No, she couldn’t do that! She wasn’t trained as a certified Pip-Boy Technician! She did not have the authorization to do this! “No! Stop!” I twisted my arm away, “There’s something going on and I want my sisters!” I cried out as she locked her fingers around my arm; my Pip-Boy beeped and notified me of the deletion.

Both women let me go. I stared at them, furious at what they had done. I looked from Maribel’s guilty face to Walker’s troubled eyes. “You won’t hear the end of this.” I turned away and heard Maribel sigh and walk towards the charts on the hooks on the far wall.

“I know we won’t,” I heard the older woman whispered sadly, knowing I would keep trying to find my siblings and Gasper, whatever information to find their whereabouts no matter how long it took.

***        ***        *** 

Leaving medical, I was growling. I stalked through the halls, shooting whomever a look that said, ‘I will shoot you if you talk to me,’ look. Soon after I came across Nathan and Jene in one of the halls, I grabbed Nathan’s arm in one hand and Jene’s in the other. I dragged, or more so, lead them into a storage closet and made Nathan lock it after we were all inside. I explained what Maribel and Mrs. Walker had done to my Pip-Boy and where my sister’s and Gasper’s tags had been pointing.

 

Jene gave me a befuddled look, “Impossible. Even the Head scientist can’t delete tags without the Pip-Boys owner compliant in the action and without a certified Pip-Boy Technician present. That breaks over half-a-dozen protocols.” She looked shocked at that detail alone, that the fact of my sister’s and Gasper missing went through one in and out the other. This was understandable, considering she herself had been training as a Pip-boy Technician Apprentice for over a year now.

Nathan gave me a look and studied his own Pip-Boy, scrolling the screens to the map function. “Huh,” he mused, and then looked up; his bright blue eyes stared into mine. “I can say without a doubt. Your siblings and Gasper have left the vault.”

Jene’s face blanched white, as her hair stood out on end, a moment later and she relaxed, her hair settling back down. “Ha, ha. Good one Nathan,” she laughed nervously and saw the seriousness etched on the calm blue eyed teens face. “It’s easy… just go ‘Ha, ha.’ And we’ll call it a day.”

The apprentice Pip-Boy Technician looked at Nathan, then to me. Her burgundy hair slowly rose as she grew irritated and nervous again with each passing second of silence. “…you aren’t joking are you?” My cousin sighed, drawing her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyelids. “Whhhy?” She lamented, her voice wavering, “Always something else with you two. I just know you are going to just head out after them.”

Shaking my head, I bite my lip musing aloud, “The only way out is with the Vault Access code.” A thought occurred to me, I didn’t have my sibling’s tags anymore, and neither one of my sisters were on good terms with our mother. Obviously I could get Nathan, the technological smarty-pants to hack security and seize my sister’s tags from data storage. I did not understand it completely, but the Pip-Boy tags were relayed through a node in the Security and stored a copy in the Mainframe- at least that is what was taught in school during my attempt at joining the Security force.

Even shift D, the lazy 24:00-08:00 AM wouldn’t take a weakling reject like me.

Speaking of Nathan, he tapped my shoulder and brought his Pip-Boy close; showing me a low-level file he had hacked from Medical records. Specifically; about personal effects that were submitted to be held while Clarisse Winter, Belle Winter and Gasper McBree were in Medical isolation. One item in particular caught my eye.

“Belle’s Pip-Boy? Why is that in Medical?” I mouthed and looked to Jene, who had busied herself by plaiting her hair while watching avidly. “Jene, aren’t Pip-Boy’s sealed until we die?” It was a valid question; I thought Pip-Boys were biologically pressure sealed, near impossible to get off under normal circumstance.

The nervous trainee Technician shrugged, which was not helping my worries. “If someone possessed a deactivation neural code matrix-” she saw my look of utter loss, she knew I wasn’t that tech savvy. “-an electronic Master-key that can be uploaded by another Pip-Boy,” she paused, “It is also an actual physical key from a certified Pip-Boy Technician.” She finished with a smile.

“With a wild guess,” Nathan muttered, “You wouldn’t be able to do that, considering you’re rank and experience wouldn’t allow you near a Master-key and two, you haven’t been near Pip-Boy maintenance since last week work duties.” Jene gave a short, if not snippy nod confirming that either; Jene’s boss broke conventions that my sister is gravely injured or Gasper somehow removed the Pip-Boy for some unexplained reason.

There was one option I refused to consider.

My sister was dead.

I rejected any and all thought to believe the latter outcome. Turning to Nathan, I smiled, “Hack the Security tags,” I unlocked the door and stepped out into the deserted hallway and turned to my friends. “Something is going on, and I am going to find out tonight.”

***        ***        ***

Grinding my teeth together again as I waited in my room, pacing back and forth before my bed. I literally declared unsocial behaviour on my vault, my home. I was willing to risk so much to find out whether or not my Pip-Boy was on the fritz of if Medical was lying to me. Truthfully I hoped my Pip-Boy was just acting up, which wouldn’t be the first time.

My pacing ceased when I heard footsteps. Quick, and light balanced footsteps that knew exactly where to tread for silence. Turning I smiled at Jene standing in the doorway that lead to my mother’s apartment. She nodded to me, raising her Pip-Boy while opening its access port, retrieving a cable from her Utility belt. Quickly she transferred several files she and Nathan had copied from the Security and the Vault’s main-frame.

There was not a better team of thieves with those two; Jene knew every way into a Pip-Boy’s system, every trick of the trade and way to repair a damaged Pip-Boy. While Nathan was silent, sneaky, could hack into any system fewer than ten seconds and find any file within a few taps of the keyboard.

Huddled on my bed, Jene watched me glance at the tags outside the Vault’s boundaries. A worried crease formed on her brow as I switched the function from maps to Audio Logs and saw that there were several files that had been attached to the tags. I looked up at her. She nodded; selecting the first audio log labelled ‘ _Cattle Disease’ 1#/27/12/2107_ and clicked the play button.

 _“This isn’t right, how can anything in our vault be infected like this?”_ a sharp, definitely male voice demanded.

A sigh and a click, _“Evolution bypasses situations and in an isolated environment, I fear our stock has ill balance and strength to combat something so terrible.”_ a female voice mused.

 _“Our stock?! If we do not act soon, the entire generation will cause problems in the Vault. It wasn’t built to equip exceptional numbers.”_ The male voice sighed, _“Who would think a vault was a perfect place for growth.”_

 _“With a name like vault, I would expect progress for the Cattle, not disease.”_ She paused, _“As well as protection for the people of course.”_

_“…of course, protection for the people.”_

The audio file continued on for a few seconds and faded into static and abruptly ended.

I was not sure whether these two people were talking about the cows or the vault dwellers… Either way, I did not like either of these people from the past. Shifting my hand, I selected the next file; _Cattle Disease 2# 27/1/2157_ and selected it to play.

 _“The solution has proved useful, with progress and positive results across the subjects for the past fifty years. My fellow scientists and I have found a way to stimulate the production of a natural enzyme that effectively paralyses the disease that infected the stock all those years ago. We have to be careful how we proceed with our experiments. And I don’t mean boiled egg glued to the spoon careful, I mean a hardboiled egg duct-taped, glued and held less than a centimetre above the ground.”_ I heard a shuffle of papers and creak of a chair.

 _“One slip-up and we could lose the entirety of the cattle.”_ A deep sigh rattled the recorder in the past, _“We are lucky we have some embryos, sperm and eggs in storage. Slow-growing cattle foetuses to re-start the herd might be the only option we have. The only thing stopping us from doing this is the fact that the frozen genes were for if there was a sudden death count in the cattle numbers and to supply a diverse genetic family over how long we are sealed in the vault.”_

I blinked.

“Hm, I didn’t know that there had been disease in the cattle. Must be non-transferable to humans, last year’s census showed a steady rise in the vault population.” Jene theorised, twisting her Pip-Boy’s knob to the map function, fiddling with the scroll bar.

I raised an eyebrow, “Why would that be?”

She gave a little shrug, rippling her burgundy-red hair, “Because, if it were transferable to humans, we all, or most of us would have died or noticed the effects. Considering the entire air-filtration system isn’t separated errantly.”

The rest of the Cattle Disease audio files went into how the Overseer, Medical, Animal keepers and Scientists of the time were curing the disease. After the tenth file, I came across a file dated a little over 200 years ago labelled _‘VT-AU-24-Ovrd’_ and clicked it to play.

_“T-the Override code for opening Vault AU-24 door is… Dawn’s light.”_

My eyes widened and reached my eyebrows. I looked up into Jene’s dark blue eyes and tapped the play button once again.

The voice was my sister’s.

How could she- no, this wasn’t her. Listening to it for a third time, there was a slight difference in the woman’s voice. I realized that I may have mistook the female voice for Belle’s on the basis the unnamed voice was sweet sounding, soft and sounded terribly shy. This was an appropriate description of Belle too.

This woman of the past had provided me a way out. I would bet my Pip-Boy that this was the same way the others left the Vault. As triumphant as I felt, I realized that the trio had been sent out to die. Perhaps Gasper caught a highly contagious virus from his regular lab experiments to combat mutations in the cattle’s genes and unknowingly passed in on to my sisters. It was unlikely; still they were best friends for the majority of their lives and were always together in their breaks and evenings when possible. I knew that some might think my sisters were having a go with Gasper, I knew otherwise to the flimsy gossip that Gasper didn’t look at the female gender for anything other than friendship.

I felt down-trodden.

I had no right to bring them back if they were contagious, or at choose they return if they left for their own freedom. They were my family, I wouldn’t leave my family to be in pain or die alone. A thought occurred to Jene as we discussed what could be done; she suggested that maybe they were sent to find a medicine for the herd if there was a mutation in the very genetics that was so in grown that new genes were needed to survive. By what she explained to me, before the war there was an organization that was developing a cure for a bovine flu that was similar to the Blue Flu, but was not transferable to other species.

If the Overseer knew about this, which was another option to why the trio left that they had been sent on an authorized mission of some sort.

For hours I discussed the options with my cousin the options we were presented. Hours until midnight we ended up puffy eyed from sleep deprivation with red eyes. The lone thought in my head before sleep consumed me was that I wasn’t leaving my sibling out there in God knows what. We even attempted to open a large and complicated file labelled Priority One. However, it was soon realized that the file wouldn’t open without a clearance code or an activation password.

Beside my bed I looked at the grainy black and white framed picture of my sisters and I that was taken over ten years ago, during my sixth birthday by Gasper. I looked at my older sisters; Clarisse with ringlets of platinum white hair, smiling with a wide grin as she smeared cake over Belle’s face, smiling wryly with a giggle on her lips, the pink icing mixing into her long black hair. We were all so happy, even if my sisters were over a decade older than me; they always included me in their games and never left me alone, like all the other children in the Vault.

That picture set my mind to what I was going to do.

I was going to leave the Vault.

***        ***        ***

Early the next morning lay on my bed, my face buried in my pillow, listening to the D Shift vault broadcast of todays ‘events’. They were always the same; breakfast, study/class/work, lunch, and study/class/work. Followed by afternoon activities which usual meant me getting smacked in the face by a baseball or getting a bruise, a flavourless dinner which was spiced cram that I preferred to shovel down and swallow with a lot of water without it touching my tastebuds. Most evenings followed by study, reading, games or whatever before sleep and night-mode in the Vault. One of the pleasant things was Melanie’s weekly concerts, if you were lucky enough to get a ticket to go to.

Rolling over, I hit my Pip-Boy on my bedside table, getting mildly annoyed at the memory of several children who had harassed me several days ago with an early morning prank and their demented pet dog that wasn’t big enough to make a decent cutlet.

Biting my lip, I needed to prepare for my leave. Preferably in secret if I could manage it. Nathan and Jene promised to help however they could; both of them couldn’t leave with me, even so, I wouldn’t ask them to. Nathan was responsible for his younger brother when his parents weren’t home and Jene had to look after Socks and was the only Pip-Boy apprentice Technician in ten years. No one had shown any talent for it, including both class groups which consisted of children from the ages of 6-12 and the second of 13-17 year olds.

Glancing at my Pip-Boy’s chrono, it was nearing 7:00 A.M.

I smiled and spent the next hour preparing everything I could for outside the Vault; food, medicine, water and the like, everything but finding a way to sneak into the entrance area of the Vault. Which took me a few minutes to think of; with a grin on my face I pulled my pack over my shoulders and went in search of Nathan.

***        ***        ***

One quick explanation later to my bemused friend, we were inside the Overseer’s office; looking for a pass card or something to distract the security near the Atrium so I could get to the Vault door. I was supremely thankful and a bit impressed of Nathan’s skills at lock picking and hacking. He easily bypassed the Overseer’s door lock and got into the terminals security in less than a minute, without having to log-out of the terminal too.

Such a smart cookie.

As he worked away, I looked around the Overseer’s office, as I had never had the chance to view the workspace of our glorious leader before.

The office was moderately decorated with a plush sofa, several bookshelf’s and cupboards, mostly common pieces of furniture found in any Apartment in the Vault, nothing personal anywhere. I strode past a shelf covered in books and saw photographs of Melanie and Marko- singing as a duet, various performances, publicity and events, releases of new songs by Melanie and when her next concert would be. I narrowed my eyes and looked at each photo- they all looked like snap-shots by fans or what went for press or news in the Vault.

I found it really odd, why on earth would the mother of Melanie and Marko have photos that looked like clippings from a magazine and not any real love in the photos.

“Hm,” my companion muttered, his fingers flying across the keyboard, “I have a way for you to get into the Vault doors antechamber Amb’s.”

I hovered behind him, walking over and peeked over his shoulder, “What? How?”

He gave me a look. His ‘Keep calm and wait’ look. He tapped several more keys and a whirring of gears ground behind us.

With a start, I turned around wide-eyed as the Overseer’s desk rose up from the carpeted floor and a sheet of metal slid back, revealing a flight of concealed stair. I gave Nathan a broad smile and threw myself against him, wrapping my arms around him and giving him the warmest hug I could. “Thankyou Nathan.”

He rubbed my back, “Look after yourself Amb’s, don’t be reckless and remember to look before you leap.” He whispered softly and stuffed what felt like bobby-pins into one of my pockets and a screwdriver in the other. “Remember patience with locks and how to hack.” He drew away and shooed me down the tunnel.

“I’ll be careful.” I nodded as I began down the stairs, “I promise on God, the Majesties and the Star that I will come back.” I called out softly as the metal sheet slid back into place, erasing my presence from above.

Quickly, I made my way down a section of tunnels, intersected by several wheel-locked hatch doors, not unlike the ones on the Reactor level and Maintenance. Soon I came to a metal wall very similar to the doors in the rest of the vault in the common areas, except this one opened with a large switch beside the door. I pushed it and felt instant satisfaction.

Red buttons, no matter who saw them, everyone pushed one ultimately.

With a smile still plastered on my face, I walked into a small storage room that housed containers of ammunition- which were all locked with electronic locks… ah well. I sighed and turned open another hatch, pushing it open, I saw two security guards were lounging at a fold out table, talking loudly and playing what looked like poker.

I blanched, my eyes darting to the exit then back to the guards, who looked at the door I had opened then at me with distaste as they rose from their seats. I bolted for the hatch diagonally to my left, yanking the wheel open I pushed it open enough to slip through and slammed it back against its frame when the weight fell back. As I spun the wheel, I heard the guards yell for me to stop. I answered by sliding a formidable looking lead pipe through the wheel against the door.

Panting, as my heart slapped against my ribs I turned around and leant against the wall beside the hatch. With a short laugh, I looked up at the cog-like door before me. Taking a few steps forward, I gulped and jumped as a nearby terminal flashed to life, start-up routines flashing across its screen. If I knew my history right, the terminal was identification check from a relay of terminals, one further in the Vault in Security in my memory was right.

Bending down, I inspected the terminal keyboard and jumped back as a face flashed onto the screen, a young, quite lovely but a very cruel person greeted me, displayed in green tones- Melanie Gale. “Melanie? How are you-” I stopped and shook my head, of course, “Marko’s doing this, right?”

Melanie regarded me with a wry grin, “Yes, he is something of a wonder. Made a distraction for our mother and Security to deal with.” She noticed my frown and she let out an audible sigh. “Nothing to hurt anyone Winter.”

Good, nobody should get hurt from me leaving,” I replied. “Why are you contacting me Melanie?” I asked her. I was genuinely curious of why the Vault singer was suddenly so interested in in talking to me. Without some sort of pain attached.

“Because I want one more time to batter you.” She laughed with a wry smile.

I shook my head back and forth, “Melanie… really?” I sighed, I never wanted to say this to her, I never wanted to hurt her. “I know the reason Melanie.” I whispered, lowering my eyes.

“Reason for what?” a delicate eyebrow rose above her left eye, hiding below her immaculate golden curled hair.

Bracing myself against the table I looked into her eyes, her sad green-blue flecked eyes, “I know that you have been hurt, you lash out whenever someone truly gets too close to you. Yes, you are genuinely kind to everyone around you, to fans, to children, the old and young. In fact, you are kind to everyone in the Vault.” I frowned, a gentle crease etching my face, “I know you cringe when you sing with your mother near.”

The Caucasian beauty leered at me, her eyebrows arching down in self-conscious fury. “When you sing, I hear such lovely waves of emotion and climbing finesse… I can hear your pain. In the way you say thank you to the audience for such praise.” I continued, not stopping my some-what cruel talk, not telling her that it had been in fact been Jene seeing such grief in the young woman’s songs.

She looked up, anger burning in her eyes, “You know nothing Winter. Nothing of what is going on in this vault, or any nightmare that exists beyond connections and links,” she bit her lip and looked away as the noise of the guards still continued behind me. Melanie exhaled and moved beyond the screen, fiddling with her Pip-Boy, tapping commands and a short beep pinged on her terminal. A few seconds later a small window popped up on the terminal screen before me, notifying me of a cache of files.

“Marko has blocked the speakers inside the entrance, you have little time,” her grief filled voice drifted over the terminal link. “Just go Ambi, go… just leave and wreck someone else’s life.”

“Melanie…?” I started to ask, what was she talking about? I called again, and then realized that she was long gone.

Moments later, her ochre-black haired twin stood in her place, “Winter, take these files. Don’t ask, just take them and get out of here.” He ordered me. With that remark, he left and the video-link shut down, which opened a smaller window on the screen. What did that hacker think I would do? What did he want me to do? Granted I would help him even when most normal people wouldn’t care to do anything for someone with that history. I sighed as I tapped the terminal’s keyboard.

Curiosity got the better of me. I couldn’t just leave whatever was sent to this terminal. The twins wanted me to have it for some reason- whether a joke, farce or something serious, I wasn’t sure about it. Shortly I connected my Pip-Boy and gasped sharply as the Friend-or-Foe decided to do a mad dance of fits in front of my eyes. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grit my teeth as numerals, binary, cartographers, various technical specs flashed through my vision- several things I couldn’t think of an apt name for too for account of my average intelligence. All varieties of nonsense streamed over my eyelids, willing for the errant data to go away.

Within picoseconds the madness of binary and data left my vision. My eyes snapped open as the terminal beeped, reporting a new series of messages, some over 200 hundred years old and some seconds old.

_> > TERMINAL LOG-IN 23rd.Ocotober.2077_

_> Vault Twenty-Four, 100% completed._

_> Booting relay network…_

_> > !!! ERROR !!! Radiation surge detected, lethal levels rising, accessing protocols…_

_> New relay found._

_> Preparing new transfer-_

_> Electrical unit unavailable space, searching… Please wait._

_> Stand-by mode activated._

_> > TERMINAL LOG-IN 23rd.September.2276_

_> Detecting new viable network._

_> Accessing…_

_> Available space, exceeds viable criteria._

_> Transfer y/n?_

Wait, transfer what? By the Star, what was going on? Network… the only network connected my Pip-Boy! I tried to stop my Pip-Boy, realizing that it was the only network, or large enough storage to hold such a vast amount of information.

_> Transfer request received, please wait…_

_> > GR transferred._

_> > DP transferred._

_> Error. Bio-match inconclusive._

_> Data storage complete._

_> Error. Geographical data corrupted._

_> Error. Unknown defence system active. Synching…_

_> Error. AU-Network disconnected, searching…_

_> Error. Public Broadcast network down._

_> Error. Military network down._

_> Contacting Bureaus… Bureaus unavailable._

_> Last location compass activated._

A sharp electric shock travelled up and down my body, making my hair frizz out as my sight returned to normal. Or what counted as normal to me. I massaged my arm; just above my Pip-Boy as I stepped away from the terminal and turned to the vault entrance, still hearing the guards yell and by what I could tell, talking to someone who wasn’t of security.

In my whole life I had never seen the massive cog-like door, in truth, the sight of it scared the hell out of me. My eyes travelled upwards to the heavy locking mechanism latched in place to keep us safe from the end of days, from the never ending darkness that existed outside the door. Supposedly what was out there was nothingness, a vast empty black pit, that if you stepped outside the vault, you would fall forever in the lonely darkness, screaming as the empty expanse tore your body apart. Rending your body to pieces and destroying your very being, your mind swirling in the deep darkness forever in pain.

That was not a pleasant thought in my child hood. I had been five when an older boy had told me that titbit of horror and myth. Every day he would say that, the very idea of nothingness upset me and went out of his way to mention it, no matter where we were or what I was doing. He had the audacity to tell me of it while I was waiting for the bathroom once, a very busy morning and I had an accident from fear because of him.

I hiked my pack up on my shoulders higher, adjusting the straps so it hung between my shoulder blades and evenly distributed the weight. Being unsure as I was, I had packed my pack with the obvious necessities; food, medicines and the like; in case of boredom I even packed my favourite book; Proper Pronunciation of one’s Diction; Customs edition. Though I had always been partial to survival books, as it was I was still looking for a copy of Don’t Panic, collector’s edition. I checked my three canteens, a hip flask, one in my pack and one against my hip on a leather thong. They were all full and all three had a CWC-filter (Clear Water Chip) in the neck, so purity of liquids wasn’t going to be a problem.

As I made me way over to the console, entering the voice override command, I grasped the entrance consoles lever, pulling down with all the strength I could muster. The dang thing was stuck, which was odd considering that it hadn’t been used that long ago. You’d think someone would maintain it better, or at least send Maintenance a note of repair

With a grunt, I pulled the lever down, the hatch wheel behind me spun as it and the lead pipe fell free on to the metal grating below, the guards and the Overseer yelling for me to stop and back away. I leapt down the steps, my boots thumping on the pocked metal as I sprinted towards a large container behind the console to hide behind in case some of the guards, or the Overseer was trigger happy.

“Stop!” a muffled voice shouted through the door as a warning klaxon blared to life, flashing red lights coming alive overhead.

With a deep sigh, I knew that voice. In my entire life I had always obeyed teachers and elders, being the good little girl. I only ever disobeyed when I saw that I could help someone, disregarding of what it would do to me. I glanced over my shoulder at the vault door, and then back at the hatch, this time my family was more important than the duty to the Vault.

The hatch opened behind me as I gazed at the vault door as the mechanism’s whirred to life, air hissed from pressure seals, steam fogging the entrance as the world itself shook around me. The bolts holding the door in place drew back gave me an idea that everything was falling apart. I just hoped I hadn’t done something wrong and this was not God’s wrath. I moved closer to the container hiding between it and another close by, wondering if the steam meant the door would fly off its giant grooves, cart over the room and smash into me as the mechanical arm swung down from the ceiling and latched into the set marks in the door.

As I shuddered there, digging my fingers into one of the containers as he arm pulled the protective door away, with surprising ease, a gut-wrenching squeal followed that would proceed to make my ears ring. I taped my ears, checking my hearing and realized that it was open.

I could leave.

“She opened the door…” one of the now, many guards whispered in fear by the hatch. “Enough let me talk to her.” The familiar voice of the head scientist stated. Stated was the right word with describing her, she was stubborn, not pigheaded and knew her limitations.

“Very well Walker, if you fail and she leaves, you know the protocol.” The gruff, annoying voice of the Overseer demanded. I was being unfair, the Overseer had her good points too and she kept the vault running and things in order. Majesties knew that I didn’t want to run the Vault.

Behind me I heard the tell-tale slap of Vault-Tec approved foot ware walked across the metal grating and by what I could sense, stopped by the entrance command console. “Please come out.”

With a sigh, I stood and walked a few steps out into the clear walkway and faced her. “Don’t try to stop me, I will bring them back.”

She regarded me with a calm and calculated look, “You don’t have to do this,” she brought up her Pip-Boy showing the tell-tale data and audio log screen. She selected one and pressed play, the Overseer’s voice and hers filled the air.

_“They won’t fail.”_

_“Of course they won’t, their success of the vault depends on it.”_

There was a pause, _“You mean survival. After all, Overseer, this is not an experiment on the inhabitants. Just a precaution for our crops and cattle.”_

_“For the vault, our people will survive through the three chosen. I will not have a repeat of what happened all those years ago. I will not be my great-grandmother.”_

_“Overseer, you have nothing to fear, with their skills and training, McBree and the two Winter’s will succeed.”_ Her voice seemed to waver at that admission.

The audio log stopped with a click. I stared up into the face of the woman before me, guilt plastered on her face as ire burned into me. “They won’t come back you know. Gasper hated the vault, Belle would help him any way she could and Clarisse would leave to make her own way in the world with them.” A thought crossed my mind, “What do we need outside the vault? What could be so important that you would risk lives?”

Regarding me calmly, she sighed in resignation. “A disease, a mutation that is causing problems in the cattle and various crops. Over the past twenty years there has been a decrease in calving and if nothing is done, the cattle will die off or become sterile.” She looked at her Pip-Boy, her eyes skimming the data, “We estimate that there is enough fresh food for several months and enough pre-war food stockpiled for a year.”

“And there are embryos and frozen bovine samples in case of scenarios like this, right?” I asked, fearing that those might be somehow contaminated too.

With a grave look she closed her eyes. “There are very few left, the disease is acting so fast that we have little chance of changing it without specialized equipment from one of the Bureau’s. Specifically, the Bureau of Harmony or from the Bureau of Environmental, Historical and Myths.”

My jaw clenched as the guards milled around the hatch, waiting for a signal or any sign to subdue me. “I have to do this.” I spoke softly, ignoring the look the Overseer was giving me.

“If you leave, without Overseer clearance, you know that you cannot ever be let back in. No matter what you retrieve.”

A sharp smile etched my face, “Protocol above everything.” I took a step back and looked over my shoulder into a dark tunnel. I could leave right now. Looking back to Mrs. Walker, seeing stormy blue eyes flecked with grey and yellow. I remained still, realizing my hand was still near my ear as I stared at the open entrance way. I was scared of what lay outside. What terrible things waited past the small entrance hall I had seen in the 1stt level schematic and security monitor, what lay just outside in the dark?

A part of me knew that there were others who could do this job, others that could go out and search for my family and enact the retrieval of what my home needed to survive. Many were better qualified and hell, at least more knew how to fight if unarmed for self-defence or knew how to hack or repair their possessions, which I am sure, would be a very handy thing outside a vault.

Almost involuntarily I took another step backwards.

“Please don’t do this Ambi.” Walker pleaded, “I can’t bear losing another family member.”

I looked into her eyes with shock crawling over my face. She had always believed in protocol, acting in a certain way and being more open at home. That had always been why she was moderately cold outside our apartment. I gave her a sad, yet sincere smile for what I was about to do. “I promise I will come back. I promise to bring back the cure mother.”

She gave me a soft smile; my mother walked forward grabbing my shoulder, blocking me from the hatches view. “Go little Ambi, be safe and please come back.” She whispered and kissed my forehead, slipping several things into my pack then made a mock grunt, “Winter stay still, guards!” she cried, pushing me away.

I took a few steps back; I glanced into her eyes, her fevering look screamed at me to run. I could stay, just forget this and go back to my life of meaningless monotony. Was I doing this for adventure? Perhaps greed? Yes, safety would come at the cost of guilt. Regret at knowing that I would be cushy and safe in a vault that would soon die, while God knows what the trio that left were going through.

“Guards! Shoot her!” the Overseer screamed, pushing past my mother on the steps.

I inhaled sharply and ran across the inset metal flooring as I heard the audible clack of guns being raised; something flew past my head as I stepped out and over the Vault’s cog-shaped doorway, onto a slab of cement into darkness.

***        ***        ***

Stumbling forward, I turned right and leant back against the wall beside the Vault entrance out of reach of light behind me. I bit my lip and pressed a hand over my heart as the guards milled on the other side, fearing the dark tunnel, more so fearing the idea of steeping outside the door and being sealed out. Needless to say, I was afraid as much as anyone else; the loud clang of the steel door had frazzled my already jumbled nerves. Why would a door need to make that much noise? Was someone stupid enough to stand by it and get caught in the spokes as it closed? I pondered that this was ridiculous.

The Overseer screamed repeatedly for them to get me, she not moving a centimetre to do it herself. In case they did decide to come after me, I decided to move while I could. As I was standing in the dark, apparently no-one thought to install a light during construction. However, I knew the light of my Pip-Boy would give me away; I placed a hand over the raw stone wall off the tunnel and followed it. After taking a corner or two, I tapped my Pip-Boy’s lamp function as I started to walk in what I assumed was an old mining tunnel of some sort, I was walking on what felt like gravel after all. I glanced down and my eyes went wide.

I was walking through piles of snapped and broken bones.

By a glance, I could tell that the bones were not human by the size, that didn’t reassure me at all. Some of the bones looked large enough to be from a cat, certainly not a rat’s prey, maybe from a wild dog and its pack. Carefully, I continued down the tunnel, guided by the soft green glow of my Pip-Boy I spotted something scratched into the wall with a faded torn piece of paper taped next to it. Crouching down, I read the faded, blood smeared words;

_‘Here lies Betrayal.’_

Blinking I tilted my head, what was I meant to make of that? Was this a metaphor, or that someone was dead? I looked down, noticing a faded area in the scrabble of rock and dirt that there was at some time blood there. Not knowing who or what Betrayal was, or where his or her remains had gone, I picked the piece of paper off the wall and unfolded it, reading the contents.

_To anyone who leaves the Vault-24,_

_We knew that someone would come along eventually if not immediately after we left, learning of our intentions. We buried Betrayal’s remains, seeing as no one before had the conscience or decency to do so. Return to the vault if you choose to, if you do, inform the Overseer that we are truly sorry._

_You may have thought we did not know._

_We know and remember what you have chosen Overseer, whose rules you follow and what they do to those you lead and love._

_Maxwell Dirk ‘First’ Overseer, Natasha Yuri and Archibald Fowl, Vault 24 Retrieval team,_

_12th.April.2100_

Below that in bold black lead pencil was a scribbling of familiar writing, _‘Gasper McBree, Clarisse and Belle Winter, vault Au-24 the 2nd retrieval team, 19th.September.2276.’_

Impossible.

No one had ever left the vault before a few days ago, it was imperative that no one left. The world was too damaged and irradiated for us to live outside safely. After this, I would be lucky not to die from radiation sickness and live to 20 when I return to the vault. If I did return at all… Including with what my mother said, I would not be let in at all. I did not hold that much faith in my abilities to survive, I would find the second team and would stay alive until that is completed. May fate do what it wills after that.

Stepping past where Betrayal died, I copied the paper onto my Pip-Boy and taped the sheet back on the wall. As I continued on, I noticed the stone walls were becoming smoother, until the stone turned into dark monotonous, gray cement. I looked around in my Pip-Boys glow, cement walls, ceiling and floor. Maybe it was someone’s underground shelter, a basement or storage room for a shop. I had no idea where the heck my vault was hidden, it could have been under a park or a sewer for all I knew.

Making my way forward to what seemed to be the end of the tunnel, I came to a somewhat cramped room and stoped, then surveyed the space. Finding nothing to indicate that someone had lived here recently, just scattered garbage, dust and debris. I turned to a small opening on the far wall, into a slight space that contained a funny oversized tool cabinet in an odd shade of blue next to a set of stairs. With no other option I climbed the stairs up to the door.

Closing my eyes I gripped the handle and took a deep breath. I turned the tarnished knob; it clicked as I swung the door outward. Keeping my eyes closed, I stepped from the world I knew and into the unknown.

 

* * *

  _ **Footnote: Level up!**_

_**Quest Perk:** Unknown World - Gaining freedom from a hostile place that was once home, you gain the ability to talk to others who have experienced the same difficulties as you with +15 to Speech and unique dialogue options._

_**New Perk:** Prepared - When things happened you planned ahead and have the insight to not run headlong into anything without adequate supplies, you gain +5 Survival and Medicine. (Level One)_

_**Quest Items:** Data files of GR and DP obtained._


	4. Chapter Two: The First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambi leaves the vault in search of her family and friend, unbeknownst to her, the wasteland is a horrid place- worse than she could ever dream. Though, in a place of monsters and violence, she will meet someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Australian humor makes itself present here. I hope people enjoy this fanfiction, any and all comments are welcome.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter Two:** The first day

_“Trust is a two way street, mind you don’t trip down it.”_

  

            Eternal darkness.

An unending black expanse of nothingness surrounded me, pressing down on me. Oh God, I should have tied myself to my Vault’s entrance, the stories were all true, I’m going to fall into the sky! I started to panic, as I looked out into darkness, believing that I was in a space of nothing, where O could fall away from earth with a step from where I stood. I squeezed my eyes shut, falling to the ground and scrabbled back until I hit the door. I gripped the surprisingly well-preserved door behind me or support, as if something so flimsy would keep me anchored to the world.

When I was a child, I remembered that my sisters had a sleepover in our room with their friends. They told horror stories, some pre-war, such as the famous Cow Cadaver and the Bandit Marauder, of course they had scared me in my young age, as many of the other girls were, however I was far more horrified by the story of what lay beyond the sealed vault door. ‘Unopened endlessness’ that is what Maureen, a girl with wild brown hair had said to me; that if the vault door were ever opened, that you would fall into dark abyss and be torn apart be in an existence of nothing. That the world outside had been completely destroyed by nuclear fire, so savaged and war torn that it had been blasted to the basic form of nothing.

There was another story, one that I favoured more than the mundane terror of eternal falling. Belle had told me a comforting opposite, that the world had not been reduced to a floating abyss, that in fact it had been turned into a bleak desert, scorched and twisted from the bombs. Before having the luck of hearing the horror stories of what lay outside, I had always thought the world was actually a huge atrium with endless light, fresh air and no bleak athletic teams. I was disappointed when the Overseer had once said to me that the world above would not give a quick death, just an extended life of broken sickness and misery.

Inspiring stuff really, very motivational.

With conflicting thoughts, I cracked open an eye and was met with darkness.

I closed my eye shut with an audible moan of terror. I dared to open both eyes, waiting several seconds, realizing that my eyes had not had time to adjust to the darkness. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes open as I decided to tilt my head down and stared at the ground. Which was very dirty, the only place in my vault that was this dirty were the Harvest and Orchard level, which made sense with the fresh growing food and black nutrient rich soil. From the ground, I slowly tilted my head up, looking out around me to gauge my surroundings.

There were walls around me. I was inside.

Glancing around, I realized I was in what seemed to be a very small room, no bigger than a maintenance storage room, opening into a t-section. Blinking, I activated my Pip-Boy light, leaving on its default lamp light setting. I knew there were other coloured Pip-Boys out there, Clarisse had a yellow setting, never knew why though. With a new bloom of light, I saw that the floor below me was carpet, foul and covered in dirt, and what looked like white powder.

Looking around in the dim light, I wandered through the left doorway that leads me into a small kitchen, which was interesting to me. No one in the vault had their own kitchen. The closest thing to a kitchen in a family quarters were usually cabinets lining a section of wall in the living room and a coffee table for the occasion that people wished to have private meals instead of communal ones in the cafeteria. Most families with a toddler never had cafeteria meals until the child was old enough to sit in a booster seat in a cafeteria booth.

The kitchen, I noticed was clean- clean as it could be, considering that no one may have lived here since the war. Sitting down at the table, surprisingly intact from over a century of time degradation, I opened my Pip-Boy inventory system, deciding that now was the best time to sort my inventory out. Quickly scanning my eyes over the contents, I had very little food to spare and with what I did have was not preservable in the least. Worry creased my brow, I had taken what I could from the cafeteria, what credits I had lying around for food. I had no idea how long my search for the second retrieval team would take, nor what the rest of the world was like outside, I decided begrudgingly to investigate the rest of the building and see what I could find to aid my mission.

Within minutes I had emptied the room and sat at the table, sorting through what I found. Several boxes of Mc Pengy’s (a smiling cartoon penguin with a top-hat made of bubbles) cleaning power, dull knives, cutlery and crockery in various broken states. Food that was _beyond_ expiration date, a plate of mouldy mush that appeared to have once been fruit of some kind and several unopened cans of Irish Stew wedged between a bench and he wall. I proceeded to throw the cutlery, rockery and mouldy mush on-a-plate in a small crate that was already home to several rusted cans.

Retracing my steps, I walk through the right doorway of the t-section and into what appeared to be a living room. A heavily ransacked living room. All of the furniture, excluding a heavily stained coach and armchair had been thrown about or smashed to pieces strewn around the room, some thrown into an old fireplace. Oddly the most intact thing in the room was a coat rack- near what I assumed was a front door, with a moth eaten hat precariously hanging off one of its unbroken limbs.

Passing through the living room and past a set of stairs, I came across a small bathroom. Oddly there were several bottles of amber coloured liquid hidden in the toilet case. I only noticed because the lid was propped on backwards and for some strange reason I wondered if the buoyant compartments that measured the toilets water level had rotted away. Having spent my early life around someone whose father worked in Maintenance had adjusted my thinking process. Besides that, I knew that Nathan regularly hid his pilfered goods he stole back from the odd bully in a vent near his family’s apartment.

Having thoroughly explored the lower floor I made my way upstairs, to an open area with another filthy couch opposite an ornate bookcase decorated with wheat sprigs with nature inspired motifs. Perusing the bookcase, I pocketed a couple of intact magazines and a book from a rotted pile that had fallen through two levels of the bookcase to the dirty carpet below. There was only one room upstairs, other than the open aired seating area; there was a bedroom that took up half the floor.

In one corner there was a terminal on a desk pushed against the outer wall, next to it was a small coffee table littered with all sorts of writing supplies and pre-war memorabilia, mostly yellowed newspaper clippings and coffee cups. In the far corner there was a queen sized bed mostly intact, strangely I noticed, someone had recently propped it up on some cinderblocks, the two bedside tables and old books to get at a safe underneath.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the safe and found nothing but an empty box of ammo and a few bobby pins. I threaded the bobby pins into my hair and closed the safe again. Beside the bed, I opened a built-in cupboard and scrambled over the back over the bed with a sharp cry. I stared, wide-eyed, breathing faster than I should; I whimpered and moved closer to the cupboard, closer to skeletal remains draped with tattered clothing.

Gingerly I kneeled next to the skeleton, tears in my eyes as I surveyed where he or she died. There, arching behind the skeleton was a single bullet hole in the cupboard interior; on the floor was one shell casing, a tattered photo and a box of ammo beside the skeletons hand, the other wrapped around a revolver. Glancing further back into the cupboard, I pulled out an old military duffle back, then pulling the blanket from the bed, lining the duffle bag with it and blocking any hole. I gingerly moved the skeleton, which promptly folded in on itself; the brace against the cupboard wall had been the only thing keeping it together.

Not to add insult to the remains, I carefully moved the duffle bag onto the bed to look through the rest of the cupboard. Pieces of pre-war clothing, several photo albums each filled with dozens of photos, in which all but a few were rotted away. Surprisingly I found a small standard medical kit, which I pocketed along with the revolver and undamaged photos. Sanding up, I noticed that on the highest shelf there were several crystal bowls and half-a-dozen trophies. Most were cracked, scratched or discoloured, rubbing the engraving below a logo resembling sprigs of harvest goods; I tried to read the tarnished words on the least damaged trophy:

**H#rve## Awa##**

**2047**

I sighed.

Nothing I would really know. Placing the trophy back on the shelf, I closed the cupboard and moved over to the desk and the investigated pile of items. Sorting through the coffee table contents, I sighed again, finding nothing but a few headlines of a bygone era, _‘Message of Death, political murder case continues page 11’_ declared one headline, _‘War crises escalates, details page 15’_ said another. Beside the second headline, I found it peculiar that someone was advertising Smith’s razor blades.

Tapping the desk top as the terminal powered up, which was a marvel itself, still working two centuries after the war, a feat in engineering on RobCo’s part. I noticed that the desk had a change in the grain along the front edge. Drawing out one of the dull knives I kept, I worked at the wood, popping the wood free, revealing a small hidden space. For being a hidden space, I found nothing particularly interesting, a few sheets of paper, which most had degraded over time, a small audio recorder and a key. I guess the key had been for the safe; I mused as I looked up as the terminal came to life with a sickly green glow.

Unfortunately the terminal had a password, I had little to experience at hacking, and even if I did, I didn’t have any tools for such a job. Biting my lip I let out an audible drawn-out sigh. I knew the most basics of basics, beyond that; unless I had the proper connector cable, I wouldn’t get very far. I tried my luck, entering a few words from lines of code, sighing for a third time as I logged out of the system and restarted the computer over and over. On the fourth try, I realized that the sheets though faded may have a clue to the terminals password. Scanning over the sheets I noticed that someone had written _‘Vault-24’_ recently in bright red ink. Just below the original password, written in faded pencil was _‘Before-war’_. Entering the new password, I saw that many of the logs were corrupted from age.

**_Entry 7)_ **

_Just moved into my new home today, renting for now until I get a better job with my new degree. I am wondering if the remnants of Y2K cultists will stop. I would be more concerned about other countries destabilising than pitiful incursion attempts._

**_Entry 137)_ **

_My little sis River married my best friend, match made in heaven, if there is such a thing. On a sadder note, seems like only I am going to take on the family’s tradition, being a farmer and all. I have finally gone house hunting._

**_Entry 212)_ **

_I am happy here with Blue and Mrs. Right, she would clip my ear if she knew I said that, has the same temper as my mother. I am a bit concerned about the rumours of war; Jillian and Daniel are getting antsier by the day. Here’s hoping that it doesn’t come to what the media has been calling ‘Nuclear devastation’._

**_Entry 296)_ **

_About time I made a new entry, Daniel keeps messing with the keyboard; his mother and I are considering sending him to one of the institutes for his gift._

**_Entry 379)_ **

_Daniel was shot yesterday, by people that wanted to lay claim to the vault being built under here. Damn Vault-Tec, no one was meant to know…_

**_Entry 381)_ **

_There is nothing right in the world anymore. My wife is dead. She had been slipping away for so long, she was being treated for depression from the war and she was getting better damn it! She shot herself in the head holding Daniel’s bear and his photo. I cannot get her body back to her hometown (Inverell) with all the red-tape. Buried her where we met, on my grandparents’ home back the way under an old willow tree with Daniel, couldn’t bare to separate them._  

**_Entry 417)_ **

_My younger cousin dropped by with her daughter (Dawn) today. We had lunch outside near the shed in the shade as Dawn followed ol Blue and Bess around. I asked my cousin if she had Vault tickets, being part of the new government, she had several. I received three for allowing my land to be used for a vault. I couldn’t stand going underground when I knew that there was nothing for me there. I insisted that my cousin take the tickets, hoped that they found a use for them. Dawn said she would visit again soon, since they were staying at her Robin’s home in Sydney._

**_Entry 418)_ **

_Red skies today, not dust storms, just endless explosive evil. Can’t believe those Red Sun bastards did it, just after our God-damn resources. Good thing we converted part of our technology over to solar and plasma fusion. I had been visiting the grave with Ol Blue today when it happened. I maybe a fair bit over being middle aged, I drove my cousin’s little family up to the Vault and luckily they were some of the first there. I was offered a place even though I had no ticket, I just told them to take Ol Blue instead, she would give a litter of companion pups for the Vault. That’s how they got Dawn inside, by lying through my teeth._

**_Entry 419)_ **

_So sorry my darling, so sorry that I couldn’t save you and Daniel. Don’t know why I continue living, maybe Dawn gave me joy to live. Found her recording in the space Daniel made in my desk. He had made the space after he had broken the desk and rebuilt it, making hidey holes in my room, which still makes me laugh. Henry and Mary Johnson, last of the Vault ticket holders came in just as it started to snow, never snowed here before, must be nuclear winter. Just waiting for people to try and bust their way into the Vault. Wouldn’t work, can’t get into a vault when they shut themselves away from the worlds end._ _Late last night a strange girl with dyed hair came through, she asked a bunch of questions, then left as quickly as she appeared. She was dogged by a stranger in a hood, might have been Asian descent, cautious of riots._

**_Entry 420)_ **

_I think I’ll take a nip and cradle my dear Crimson Chance, damn near knows that my cousin and her husband gave it to me as a gift. Said she always cared for me, that I was the only cousin other than Robin. Should have given this to her before she went into the vault, keep it in the family and all that. I hope it doesn’t waste away. Going to nap for a bit in front of the fireplace, looking through the photos._

**_Entry 221)_ **

_Green snow, radiation is peaking, dead anyway, no matter._

_Enough strength to shoot._

_Goodbye Danny_

_Goodbye Blu_

_Goodbye my darling, your Jack loves you forever._

**Log-out, Date-stamp31st-10-2077-Disconnecting.**

I read the entries over and over. Touching my face, I comprehended that I was crying silently. My hands clenched, digging my nails into my palms, drawing blood. I didn’t know what to feel. This man, Jack, he had lived long enough to lose so much. Died in the start of the new radioactive era, yet lucky enough to not see what came after. I wished more than anything to give him solace somehow. As I was about to log out, when I saw that there was one more entry, however this one was dated just over two days ago. I promptly opened the log and read the recent entry.

**Log-in, Date stamp 19th-9-2276**

**_Entry 422)_ **

_If you are from Vault 24, turn around and go back into the Vault. No more messing around, get back and wait for us. No sense in wasting more lives for our sake._

_Depressing stuff on this terminal. Could delete it, I am not that cruel to destroy what little remains of him. Bell wants to bury him, we haven’t got time. A group of people seem to be sniffing around this building, as much as it would be right to keep them from the Vault, better to lead them from here. Clary was smart enough to adjust her Security barding, making it look weather worn, make people think we aren’t fresh out of the tomb._

_The sisters are scouting around in the local area. I had them leave some things behind if the Overseer would send someone next. Better that we complete our ‘mission’ finishing it and send the damn part and data back in time. I doubt the Overseer told those after us that we were not the first group sent, as I what I have gathered, Vault-Tec is hiding more than the safety of the populace. – Gasper McBree_

**Log-out, Date stamp 19th-9-2276-Disconnecting.**

I sat there in silence for a few minutes.

I didn’t know what to think; do I go on, try to find them or go back with a copy of the teams efforts and transmit it into the Vault hoping the Overseer sees it? I shook my head. My mother said so herself, the Overseer couldn’t risk opening the Vault door again without proof on my part of any valuable information to save them. Everybody knew that Vault-Tec gave explicit orders to not open the Vault under any circumstance, pending for the Vault’s survival or with the proper codes from an official from Vault-Tec. Closing my eyes, having a moment of reprieve knowing that I had to continue on no matter the evidence I gathered, in hope that I would eventually come across my Vault Dweller friends.

Opening my eyes I pulled the recording from the desk and slid the recorders interface into my Pip-Boy, downloading the content. Deciding that it would be best to leave, as the Retrieval Team had at least three days start ahead of me, it would take a while for me to find them at all. Standing, I stretched out my arms as my Pip-Boy beeped, signaling that the download was complete, prompting me, I selected the first audio file ‘ _For Uncle Jack’_.

_“Uncle Jack!”_

Blinking, I smiled. A child’s voice filled the room, a young girl with a soft voice, full of obvious joy and happy thoughts. _“Uncle Jack, mummy says we’ll visit you soon, and see the house with that willow tree you told me about. The one near that thing people sit in gardens, um, a …gazebo?”_ There was a short pause accompanied by a tapping sound. _“Mummy says that someone you love lives in the tree, does that make them a Dryad or maybe an elf? She smiled at that, I said I would sing to the tree to help it grow. Singing helps plants.”_ She stated in a matter-of-fact tone that reminded me of a mini Overseer. _“I know that things are bad, but we love you Uncle Jack. A-and you have Blue.”_ Her voice started to increase in pitch, _“Everyone loves you.”_

The recording played for several seconds as the young voice sniffled.

 _“When the drill is over, I will bring Blue back,”_ she sobbed softly, _“g-good people aren’t supposed to lie. I know you were being kind, b-but I’m going to miss you. G-goodbye Uncle Jack, w-we love you.”_ The recording clicked off after several seconds of Dawn’s soft crying.

I selected the next recording _‘Cousins offer’_ , which seemed mostly damaged. I wasn’t at all surprised to hear a woman’s voice, as I was expecting one eventually.

 _“Moving on from the financial aspect of 2075,”_ an earthy voice stated, _“I am finding myself annoyed that this is using your time Jack. You are one of the people I trust for advice. I realize that your mother may have been cruel, I am happy to see that you took a different path.”_ There was a short pause followed by a chuckle. _“I hope we can have picnics and good days soon, just maybe that China, Japan, America and Australia are not fools. That the last two wars were not in vain.”_ She softly sighed as something shifted nearer to the recorder of the past.

 _“Back to the task at hand then,”_ she sighed, as if the very report was draining her energy, _“I believe that your innovation of actualizing the mineral content the soil samples of 2400-Sydney would be one of the optimal places to conduct a survey for better crop yields.”_ A flutter of papers as the woman let out another sigh. _“Why did I ever enter public relations of ecological development? I was only selected for this project because I grew up in the area. It wasn’t like I wanted to come back to here.”_ she muttered bitterly as something in background shifted around the room, followed by a sharp eep. _“What in the world?! Didn’t I tell you I was recording?”_ the female distressed, eeping again as something moved directly behind her.

 _“Seeing as this is the last time I see you before my next business trip~”_ a decidedly male voice behind her purred. I had a feeling this tape was meant to be edited at some point and it had been forgotten. To my ears, the male voice seemed off, that he had a weird accent if anything.

The woman whispered shyly, _“No silly,”_ she was eroding to the man’s childishness, _“Come on now, you know I need to send this tonight, the board would not be too happy if I don’t comply.”_ The recording to seemed to have ended as I heard nothing for five seconds; thus I was surprised when to hear further movement and chuckling.

_“Relax, you’ll be giving yourself a migraine or something frightful if you don’t lighten the workload. The war won’t end if you or anyone else burns themselves out.”_

_“We all have to do our part to be better.”_

_“No one can change the nature of man love.”_

_“That’s entirely I am afraid of. Afraid of human’s folly.”_ With that, I heard the woman start to cry. By what I could tell, the man was her husband; he had taken her in his arms and held her. Whispering reassurances of a doomed future.

No. Just… no.

I closed my eyes, a soft sob wrenching from my throat. What had this family worked so hard to do? How many families like this didn’t have the opportunity for a vault ticket? They were a lucky few that got a chance because of kindness, others by the ticket drawing, others purchased in certain areas of Australia. How many died knowing their families had no chance for survival from a nuclear holocaust? My shoulders shuddered forward, I leant my head against the desk, muffling my building angst against pre-war survival, how truly terrifying it was.

***        ***        ***

First thing I had to do.

Get my hands away from my eyes.

Second thing, no wait, scratch that. First get my goggles out from my pocket and put them on, then unclamp my hand from my eyes. Reaching with one hand, I pulled out a set of tinted black goggles and slipped them over my head covering my closed eyes in concaved half-orbs. I reached down, my hand around the tarnished door-knob, -and I took two steps back from it. Not yet, I just needed to check the weapons first.

Yes, weapons and inventory.

Moving towards the stained couch, I sat down and pulled out the weapons I had; a primed conditioned ten millimeter that my mother had put in my pack and a Security Baton that had seen better days. Did she want me to fail? Not that I was ungrateful, was this all she sneak away without suspicion? Putting them aside, I brought out my newest addition- Crimson Chance. I was skilled with handguns, knew how to clean them, strip them and use them, but I did not know too much about repairing them. Truthfully Crimson Chance was quiet nice and one of the only fancy looking guns I had ever seen, the other being a family treasure that Clarisse had with her at all times. Glancing at my Pip-Boy, I noticed that it took .357 rounds and it was in perfect condition. Once again, I wondered how my Pip-Boy knew that.

After putting the first two weapons away, I moved the lovingly crafted revolver into my lap. The barrel was about 13 centimetres long, engraved with a neat and delicate filigree wind along the frame before the cylinder- which stood out on the matte black barrel and frame. The handle was made from a dark wood and was inlaid with a dark red grip- which felt oddly like carved stone. The oddest thing I saw about the weapon was that above the handle was a small emblem, a crimson griffin with sapphire eyes… wearing a tiny golden helm.

I wondered the origin of this artistic work, why was built like this? Who made it?

There was no point in those thoughts now. I felt aghast at myself, for staring admirably at the revolver, the revolver which had taken this man’s life. As beautiful as it was, I put the revolver away, with care in hand; I picked up the duffle bag and made my way back towards the entrance of the house. With a sharp breath, I opened the front door and stepped outside into the unknown.

Immediately as I shut the door, I pushed myself against it, staring out into the bright light and out into the scrubby landscape.

It was depressing.

As far as I could see, (which was a slight more than the average person) the land was covered in scrubby brush land with the odd spire of a dead tree poking up as a skeletal hand reaching for the sky. Shaking my head I looked up and grew wide-eyed and proceeded to vomit up my last meal. The sky went on forever, never ending tainted blue; I shoved my head down, wiping my mouth trying to get my panicked breathing under control. I placed my hands over my covered eyes.

I wasn’t going to fall upwards, I knew how gravity worked. I wasn’t going to die from this, I was just afraid of big, big, oh very big spaces that I had never experienced before. With no walls… no roof, oh God, back inside! Need to get back inside! My mind screamed as I gripped the door-knob, my body shaking. I heard a cry, a sound I had never heard before in my life. Cautiously I cracked open one eye, looking up I saw high above me a bird- something I had only ever dreamed of seeing, was flying high above.

Opening my other eye, I watched the bird fly away over the horizon. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t be afraid, I had to get up and move on. While I built up the nerve to stand, I looked out at the meager landscape again, to see if there was anything I missed.

In every direction, the ground sloped down; which was odd, considering I had thought the ground would be a bit more even, like the Harvest and Orchard Levels. With rolling dirt mounds and low sloping slants, it would make sense for a farm to be the same, with fields and cropland. All around there were scraggly shrubs and terrible looking trees that looked like they had been half burned, ripped at the bark and stripped of near all but the smallest of dead leaves. Following the rise of a small hill with my eyes, I saw something that shocked me- what on earth was that? I had seen pictures of them in pre-war books and on the Library terminals, grainy pictures of houses, buildings. This did not look like any building I had ever seen, just scarred and tilting remains, a screaming hollow of forgotten times.

Looking right of that, closer to me, I saw an old metal shed, a larger version not unlike the gardener’s supply shed in the Orchards. I vaguely remember asking one of the gardeners who tended the Orchards why there was a shed there in the first place; ‘Because it was wise to keep some of the Orchard supplies immediately on hand.’ was his reply. I had wrinkled my nose as he walked away, thinking that walking a hundred metres was annoying when carting around dirt, tools or seed packets.

Without realizing it, I had trudged a few steps forward towards the larger shed, scuffing in the dirt and tuffs of grass. My panic had faded, I rubbed my hand against my forehead, noticing my Pip-Boy was blinking with a list of alerts and newly activated functions. Well, new as in I had never needed to use them before. Trailing my eyes down, a function called ‘Auto-Mapping’ had activated, which was odd to me, considering I thought that my Pip-Boy already mapped things automatically and place I was in was labelled as “Vault 24 entrance”.

Turning around and taking several steps back, I looked up at the structure that held my Vault’s entrance; I had been inside a humble abode as I originally thought. Above the doorway there was a rectangular mark where a plaque of some sorts had once been. Surprisingly, the building looked well built for a home of sorts, I’d have thought that any building that wasn’t reinforced would have fallen down or collapsed in on itself long ago.

I walked over to the shed, noticing that it had only two walls left and only the third of its roof remained. Looking around, seeing as there was no scrap metal or rusted corrugated plates lying around, I guess that someone had taken more than half of the shed away for their own needs. On the other side of the remaining walls I saw that there were a few piles of scrap, a fission battery, a can of gas with a nozzle with an old fashioned lantern attached to it and a few broken bits and bobs. Useless to me, a broken shovel, rotten burlaps sacks and an odd amount of rusted saws.

After placing the useful items in my pack and attaching the lantern to my pack I looked to my Pip-Boy again, the compass function had activated with a small arrow in the upper corner of the map-screen was pointing to the south-east. A place if any to start, I moved the duffel strap over my shoulder and adjusted the weight before I set off.

***        ***        ***

I had never walked so much in my life.

Travelling for over three hours, which felt longer due to the unchanging scrubby terrain and repetitious skeletal remains of hundreds of blackened trees around me, some in rows that lined crop fields as wind breaks. Walking, well more like trudging at a fast pace to the incessant beat of my heart, and the steady breaths were my distractions from the ugly terrain. My thoughts wandered to how my sisters were doing, how they were faring and why I didn’t have half a brain to bring a hat out of the Vault, knowing that there was a big bright thing above, like an Atrium light if you stared at it, the sun.

Sighing as I crossed another hill, mentally kicking myself for ever thinking these scraggily small hills provided interesting features that my Vault did not. I wanted the boring flatness of my Vault, the boring flatness that didn’t have the gall to kick up dust when I slid down one of the larger rises onto a patch of cacti.

As I picked myself up out of the patch of pointy plants, plucking the spine out of my suit and brushing myself off, I saw that there were yellow lights flaring up on my Friend-Or-Foe compass. Carefully, I crouched and made my way up the slope and peered over the edge- below me I saw a shallow pond full of putrid grey-green water and several things about 15 centimetres long swimming in the water. The creatures looked like tadpoles, albeit deformed tadpoles with paddle-like protrusions from their somewhat sleek sides.

Looking around, I picked up a dirt clod and tossed it over the edge, towards the waters shore- it hit the shallowest edge of the water, sending ripple across and scattering the paddle-tadpoles to the far side of the pool. Glancing at my Pip-Boy, I saw no change in the yellow bars. Satisfied that the weird little marine life wasn’t a threat, I stood up and continued my merry way eastward.

***        ***        ***

After another hour or so of tedious marching, which part of was spent kicking random rocks I crossed to pass the time, I came across an old bridge near a collapsed building with a sign that read ‘vacancy’ in front of it. Oddly the bridge had fared well and had not decayed too much; just cracks, debris, several broken and rusted out cars littering the road. Though, I was puzzled as to why the guard rails were missing on either side of the bridge. It would make falling into the river all too easy with my recent track record of falling into painful places.

Humming softly, I crossed the bridge… then stopped. There was a weird looking reptile at my feet, a weird _shiny_ reptile at my feet. I knelt down, picking up the broken mechanical remains and blinked. It was one of those security drones I saw in Clary’s _Mechanics of Stealth_ magazines- the type of reptile was familiar, several broken spines protruding from its elongated sleek body. The name of the lizard was on the tip of my tongue; I couldn’t remember what the heck it was.

A high pitched whine cried behind me, immediately after I heard a soft ‘thump’ and felt something brush past my head. Naturally, I threw myself to the ground, broken reptile still in my hand as something else whizzed past my head again- this time from the opposite direction straight into the river. The third projectile from the second direction grazed my cheek, sending a hot burst of pain inside my cheek- as blood trickled down my face I heard panicked cries and an explosion. Looking under the car as I pocketed the broken robot as I pulled a strip of sterilized bandages out of my suit; to staunch the blood flow, I watched out for my attackers.

“Fucking bot!” a man shouted, I watched him move back and pick up his fallen companions shotgun up from the ground, then pointed at several blasted apart bodies. “They owed me caps!”

“Scrap the flying drumstick! Strip it for parts!” a second voice cackled from the first man’s left.

For some reason of another, the flying robot sounded some sort of battle music in response, followed by a screeching cry; as the first male- whoever he was and was cut down. I saw that much because I could see the pool of blood spread towards me where he fell. I muffled a scream as the ‘bot’ maundered away from the shotgun wielder; I recognized that it was of the sawn-off shotgun variety that had no shots left. He had to reload; maybe he was smart enough to get to cover, reload then shoot.

He was. A shame that he dived over the bonnet of the car I was hiding behind.

The man grinned at me, as he had already slid two rounds into the shot-guns breech as he ran and raised the gun up just as he landed on his feet. My hand went to my 10ml, and was about to enable V.A.T.S when I heard another ‘thump’. Taking my chances, I pushed off the rusted car, sliding over the bridges edge and landed on a bus half under water in the river.

My attacker had made it to bridges edge, screamed in pain as a projectile impacted with his legs immediately exploded, sending shrapnel and chunks of his body into the river. Instinctively; I covered my head and ran down the bus to the river bank before the man popped his head over the side. After a few seconds of silence, I made my way onto dry land, with a small jump and a hop I landed on the scrubby earth and walked back up the embankment to the bridge. I exhaled and looked around, trying to ignore the blood smears, I wondered where that robot had gone to. Looking back at the first rusted out car, I saw that the intact reptile was sitting on the bonnet. I was sure it was waiting for me. Cautiously I walked over to it, stopping a metre from it. “Thank you for warning me.” I said kindly, I was sincerely grateful for not being dead right now… or worse.

The reptile made another cry, a soft warbling as it stretched out appendages behind its back, and raised what I assumed was its head.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but, what are you?” I wasn’t suspicious of this funny machine, if it wanted to harm me, it would not have saved me from those men. On the other hand, I was more curious based on the fact I recognized what it was, a security drone from the old world, from the war. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was based on.

It chuckled as a hatch opened in its front and a small screen popped into view; showing a picture of a lizard more than a metre long with big powerful jaws. Then the image switched to a bat with a fluffy furred red and ochre head.

“You’re based on a bat and a lizard? Like a hybrid?”

The machine made another chuckling sound and showed a cartoony animation, showing the bat and lizard combining; creating a winged lizard roughly one third bigger than the bat component. He- at least I think it was a he, or maybe it, raised its wings and craned its head, letting out a small chirp.

“Do you have a name?” I was intrigued: this robot was one of the most fascinating things that I had ever seen. Sure there were maintenance robots in Vault 24, little cleaning drones for some of the specialized pipes, this was something different. Something unique.

The flying reptile raised its wings behind its back as text flashed across the screen;

_MD-HP-1337_

Well… that didn’t help much. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I mean, what are you? I know that you are a spy-drone, but _what_ are you?”

MD titled its head, raised its wings and snorted… which would have been more impressive if everything didn’t sound tinny and artificial coming from it. Its display flashed and showed another cartoony image of a large fearsome looking lizard next to a small detail of a human. A lizard with big teeth the length of my arm, wings over the length of its body and snorting smoke. That was a non-existing one at that- a dragon.

“Ah, so you are a robot based on a dragon then?” I smiled, “Are there many of you left since the war?”

A map of Australia popped onto its screen, showing little green dots everywhere packed together moving across the display, from coast to coast. “Hm, so a fair few left.” The robot dragon gave a shrug, I had to admit, it seemed more human than robot. “I don’t mean to be rude, especially after all your help, did you happen to have seen a trio of people come this way recently?” The dragon looked at me blankly, “I mean a trio that was like me. Pip-Boys, clean looking and well fed.”

The dragon winked its glowing eyes and shrugged then looked down at my wrist. Moving closed I held up my Pip-Boy, which seemed to automatically switch screens as the silvery-white dragon switched it to the map display and tapped several buttons. I looked at the map, the compass marker was still pointing east- another had popped up, I cycled through my notes and saw that the dragon had automatically loaded something onto it.

Find armor, allies, guide and better weapons.

I tilted my head, “Am I really that hopeless?” I asked, my pride a little wounded.

The dragon leant back and a picture of Vault-Boy winked onto its display screen. He was wearing his trademark Vault-Tec suit, for no reason he got shot several times by an unknown source and promptly died with crossed eyes. The screen flashed white, showing the blonde man again, this time in dark clothing; heavy clothing that resembled a make-shift Security armor. He got shot again, this time instead of having half-a-dozen bullet wounds he had one.

“I see. So, better barding, weapons, anything else, oh mystical dragon?” I asked with a sly smile, “Oh, and friends.” I added sourly looking down. In the Vault I only had Nathan and Jene as my friends, Jene had been my friend when she was adopted into the family, bringing Nathan who was already her friend and brother for years. How could I make new ones when it took the first ten years of my life to foster a friendship with Jene and Nathan for them to be my friends?

Another snort, snapping me out of my self-pity, looking up I saw MD tapping my Pip-Boy, MD had added something to my screen again to the map showing a location about several hundred metres from where I was. “So I need to go here?” MD chirped and tapped my shoulder with its tail, making me look down at its display.

_Good luck._

_Be careful of Raiders._

With that, the curious spy-bot fly away. Leaving me standing on the bridge wondering what a raider was. After a few moments I looked around the bridge, realizing that the dragon had blown apart anything save for a small ammunition box- which had two rusty cans, several funny shaped metal discs and a Taloona brand (Grandmothers love in a package.) sponge jam filled snack-cake. While I munched on the delicious dessert cake, I continued towards the marker MD had added. I pondered over what MD had said- er, what it- heck, just call it a he, sick of gender confusion. So, I pondered over what he had shown me.

Armor was something that seemed simple enough, I could buy- if there were people to buy from around, find or make some. Making it would take several days of even weeks considering that I didn’t know how to tan leather nor had the heart to kill something for their skin either. Then and there I realized that I would most likely have to put on a dead persons clothing. It was a horrible prospect that I had been outside my Vault less than four hours and had nearly been killed for lack of protection, especially that I would likely have to take the clothing of the next person that tried to kill me. I knew getting weapons would be simple enough, seems that was something the wasteland thrived in. Similar of the idea of taking a dead man or woman’s armor repulsed me, taking their weapon of killing them in the first place sent a cold feeling throughout my body.

Friends. That made me laughter bitterly. I had friends. Had being the prime word, what use would I be when I couldn’t kill to survive out here, had limited medical knowledge and had no real intelligence above average. I was hard pressed that I would survive the day, let alone live long enough to find my sisters and Gasper, find a friend outside the Vault. How hard would it be to find a guide that would willingly help someone who had been kept safe from the outside world? So far I had been shot at, nearly blown up in barely five minutes, what were the chances that someone who would willingly help a Vault born?

***        ***        ***

I was at a day care centre.

That’s where MD had sent me.

I had been looking through my pair of binoculars as I was crouching behind the lone surviving panel of fencing that had once lined a crumbled down house, looking out across the street at a boxy building. When I had walked this way, the sight of several houses made me smile; maybe I would find someone to help me on my way. That was until I saw that many of the houses were burnt inside, abandoned and that many were unstable, rickety looking buildings. When I made my way closer towards the tagged building, I noticed an awful amount of people milling on the other side of the chain-linked fence.

Looking through my binoculars, I saw that they were all dressed in the same horrid, cobbled together pointy armor that the trio of men on the bridge had been wearing. They all had the same patch of on their backs too, a twisting snake with gleaming black scales and bright red belly; bearing its fangs at any ready to strike.

When I was directly across from the medium sized rectangle building, my Pip-Boy beeped, like it had before when I moved a little away from the farmhouse; a new map marker appeared. I glanced at it and saw that this location was called “Orana Avenue Day care centre”. Looking over the squat building I noticed one of two things; one was that there were people imprisoned behind a chain-link fence in a pen all barely moving, squashed among stacks of boxes. The second point was that there were two people on the roof- both had snipers mounted on tripods.

I groaned, leaning my head down. How was I to get in there? Biting my lip I noticed that beside the fence on the far side of the compound was a cylinder made of cement. Easily large enough to hide in, but no way it would conceal me getting over the fence. Carefully I snuck through the ruined yards of the destroyed buildings around me, I made my way over the street hiding in the overgrown yet dead grass. When I sat in the tube, I noticed that someone had tossed their garbage over the fence into a pile that though rotting had spilled into the tube, there were some ratty pieces of clothing that had been used for cleaning at some point and were covered in dry blood. Quickly I pulled the fouled clothing over my jumpsuit and used some of the rags to tie over my Pip-Boy.

Carefully, I placed the duffel bag of Jack’s bones in the tube. Beside the bag I put some of my heavier and unnecessary item for the time being under the remaining rags. Lord knew that I didn’t need all my stuff in a place like that. Glancing down at the far end of the cement tube, I saw that the metal fence had a gap, the metal was bent inwards. Even though it had been near to hundred years since the war, the metal hadn’t budged that much.

I guessed that this entrance was a one way trip.

Scrabbling and pushing myself under the chain-link mesh, I got through easily. I dusted myself off and crouched; sneaking my way effortlessly past several snake patched men and the pen with barbed wire running along the top and bottom that held the group of tattered people. Looking closer, I saw there was a lock on the gate; a fairly sturdy looking lock. Sneaking past them behind a scraggly line of hedge bushes I stepped up onto a cemented area and saw a door. Silently as I could, I moved across the cracked cement and snuck inside. My eyes went wide as I clicked the door silently behind me and covered my mouth.

Corpses everywhere! Mutilated carcasses, chopped and flayed bodies nailed to the walls and bookcases. Put on display like some perverse horror house! I downcast my eyes, staring at the blood slick floor, pools of blood congealing around empty soft-drink bottles, and rusting tin cans. As horrid as it was, I gulped down the bile in my throat and dug out a clean scrap of cloth from my pocket and quickly tied it around my mouth- cutting off most of the smell, which added the bonus to keep out the smaller bugs that were flying around the decaying muck and piles of rotting viscera.

Unfortunately, as soon as I stood from my crouch, I heard something move on the opposite side of the room. I looked around for cover, the bookshelves were all against the walls, and all the tables were smashed, except one that had a pile of arms under it. My only option was the door that had the universal symbol for a female’s bathroom; I darted in and shut the door behind me.

Inside the bathroom I saw something that made me draw up short and wide-eyed.

A man was standing at the remaining porcelain sink before a filthy cracked mirror, washing out a coffee cup. It wasn’t the fact that he was a rough looking fellow, or the fact that he wore cobbled together clothing that was cleaner than anything among the filth that surrounded him. It was that he wore the oddest looking hat, with a damn lantern hanging off of it! Not a miner’s lamp-light, an actual boxy glass pane lantern with a candle inside. Not unlike the one I had strapped to my pack.

When the door opened, he turned his head and blinked when he saw me, “Why the fuck are you in here!?!” he hissed vehemently, dropping his relatively clean coffee cup.

I wanted to run away from him, immediately. I swallowed and pulled out one of the cans of Irish stew from my near empty pack, “Food. Told to give some to everyone,” I quickly, tossed it over to him; he caught it easily and prayed he bought it.

He walked over cautiously and looked me over, spotting my disheveled, threadbare clothing. “I remember you, one of the new ‘recruits’ to be my assistant.” He chuckled, looking around quickly and moved me aside, “Better lead you around, considering that everyone is trigger-happy when someone wanders around without a snake or escort.”

I assumed by ‘snake’ he meant the patch on his back of the familiar wide-mouthed poison spatter. I followed him cautiously out of the bathroom, turning left ignoring a small room with several RobCo terminals were shoved against a wall, which I ducked into and checked them. Only one worked and was fortunate for me that a password or encryption key was needed. Smiling, I opened the entries that weren’t gibberish or decayed and scanned them onto Pip-Boy;

Welcome Mrs. Kross-

Last entry was disrupted; please reset terminal for maintenance.

 **_Entry 32:_ ** _It’s been a while since I made an entry, considering that I have enough time to everyday to type one out. Maybe it’s the depression of the children affecting me… they have to deal with posters from the Bureau’s everywhere, which must make day-care a haven for them._

 **_Entry 39:_ ** _Yesterday Mrs. Dawson filed a complaint that her son had been sporting Red Sun propaganda at home. She is an activist and one of the first to join the anti-war petition with that young woman from the western part of town. Sometimes I believe children grow up too fast. I am more worried that they will not grow up at all._

 **_Entry 71:_ ** _It shouldn’t have happened… how could… weren’t prepared… so many children, so many innocent sick people. We were not a threat and this is how we are treated? Damn it, damn the Bureau of Internal Affairs!_

 **_Entry 93:_ ** _Oh god, I heard the bombs went off, I cannot leave the children alone, I am getting all the teachers to move the children into the Day-Care SUV and taking them towards Tamworth. Brendan, please get to the Vault, get Franklin and Henrietta with you, only way you can save our babies with your security pass. Mummy loves you Henny-pen and Frankie, mummy loves you lots._

Last message sent, reply interrupted, please contact a local RobCo.

What…? What was the Bureau of Public Affairs doing?

I tilted my head and sighed, had the mother made it to her children? I had seen the genealogy of Vault Twenty-Four a long time ago, a history of the first generation of Vault dwellers, I never saw two children named Henrietta or Franklin… fate was something terrible. I quickly withdrew my Pip-Boy connecting cable and ducked out to the hallway taking the right I should have been following and down a hallway, catching up to the man. As we continued, I noted that everywhere there were poster geared towards young children learning and being good, though most were torn and covered in very disdainful vulgar images and words.

We passed several rooms, every single one had burning trash bins, defaced bookshelves and toy-boxes full of body parts. The only one that looked relatively normal was a children’s reading room that had been turned into a cemetery for books. Half-a-dozen of the books had been carelessly thrown against the wall opposite the doorway and were slowly rotting into mouldy pulp. I would have thought that books would make good fuel, a slightly better productive way than if they were going to waste them.

As we walked past the book room, I saw a poster in a mounted frame, a young Caucasian woman with wavy brown hair. She looked comfortable surrounded by piles of books, of all kinds and ages, her ice blue eyes delighted as she spoke ‘Every book is an adventure.’ That was what it was originally, however some bright spark had written on the glass in blood, covering ‘book’ with ‘cunt’. I agreed, every book was an adventure.

I wasn’t paying attention to my ‘escort’ of course I bumped into his outstretched hand. He glanced at me, as he went to a kneeling position and fiddled with something. Watching him carefully I noticed that there was a sliver of wire stretched across the floor that was held in place against one wall of the hallway, while the other went up into a nearby cent, where a small greenish orb was placed with the tied a small metallic ring.

A grenade.

As I balked the unnamed man moved his fingers with adept skill and disarmed the grenade, moved me past and reset the tripwire. He gave me a grin, continued moving along the hallway. I followed him and took my time as we walked to look him over. Not in the sense that Clary would, I was looking to see how well he was armed. Right away, all I saw that he had, was a crowbar with sharpened edges and a mess of fine wire.

If he was adept with explosives, he could literally have anything up his sleeves.

Eventually we reached a room which was what I assumed was the day care’s entrance; against one wall a three seated couch, next to it were several low coffee tables with pamphlets and child-related magazines for adults or guardians. On the opposite side of the room was a water cooler, which wasn’t full of water, it was full of blood and eyeballs. Turning my head away with a squirming feeling in my guts, I looked at the people around the decrepit room; all wearing blood riddled clothing and all had psychotic looks in their eyes as they drank various alcoholic drinks.

The man beside me coughed, “Everyone, I’m going to get dinner now. So don’t have any ‘snacks’.” He chuckled nervously, he seemed as nervous as if he was about to be run over by a tank.

One of the people, a woman with angel-winged hair looked me over and snickered, addressing the man beside me, “She your new help?” he nodded as the woman grinned. I didn’t like her at all. “Make it good, or we’ll have to take it out on your new helper.” She cackled and went back the couch and proceeded to scream profanity at a man with pus filled eyes who took a swig of her beer.

My escort nodded; clenching a hand on my shoulder and tracked us back towards one of the rooms we passed that wasn’t open. It was shut for a reason, as it had been locked. After a quick rummage in a dead pot plant near the door the man unlocked said door and hid the key. The whole time he kept his hand on my arm, pushing me in roughly and shut the door, locking it.

The room was not very large; there was just a small table, couch and a coffee table on one side. Looking at the other side of the room I saw a set of counters, a fridge, a small generator and an industrial stove beside a door. I was pretty sure this was a teachers lounge or break room. My eyes rested beside the door on a free-standing soft-drink machine.

A Rosemans soft-drink machine.

I was sure I squealed then clamped my mouth shut. Trying to be sneaky here. Not spastically urging for a delicious carbonated drink that tasted like cherries. Realizing my mistake, I looked at the man. He gave me, ‘I know you are lying’ look and smiled.

Smiled? What?

“Who are you?” I whispered, still feeling his clenching grip on my arm.

“Are you a Raider?” he growled, leering at me, the candle shining in his eyes.

“What?” I raised an eyebrow, what was that?

Are you a raider?!” he repeated, his voice rising, as he dug his fingers into my arm.

“N-no, I don’t even know what they are!” I cried, trying to uncurl his grip from my arm, “Please let go!” I pleaded, as I cursed my puny strength!

The man stared at me, his peculiar eyes staring uncertain daggers at me. He dragged me over to the fridge, which was pristinely clean unlike the rest of the building. Swinging the door open he forced me to my knees and pushed my head in, “Are you a cannibal!?!” he growled, placing a hand on the back of my head, forcing me to stare into the dead eyes of a decapitated head of a young woman sitting in a metal baking tray.

For the love of mercy, save me!!!

I turned my head away and vomited between my knees, unable to handle the fresh stench and congealed blood. I started to cry, “Are you going to kill me?” so this was it, not even a day out and I’d be killed on my knees. Some rescuer I turned out to be.

He pulled me up to my feet and pat my shoulder, “If you were a rival raider spy to the Red Belly’s, I would, just to stop another raider in the wastes.”

I slunk over to the countertops and collapsed, wiping my face on my already revolting sleeve. “Why?” I turned my face to his; I need to know why he was cooking people.

“It is better I show you…” he whispered, leading me over to the other door, which I had assumed was a pantry or storage closest, turned out it was something worse than the horror-house room I entered. Turned out the room was once an office, most likely the office of the head teacher or principle of the day care. Now it was a prison. All the furniture had been removed, a sheet of chicken wire interlaced with barbed wire running from the floor to ceiling, sealing over half-a-dozen children behind it.

“Constantly I am threatened to cook people. If I don’t, be their chef of horror, fix their damn weapons, they’ll cook these kids…” he whispered quietly, not taking his eyes off the caged children, who all had eyes of defeat and mistrust in their eyes. My heart was breaking for them; no-one should ever hurt children.

“Why would they hurt children?” I asked dreading the answer.

“Because they are monsters. Filthy disgusting things, that gave up their right to be called human the moment they killed for pleasure or ate one of their kind.” He spat, moving back from the children and into the kitchen.

For a few seconds I looked back into the cage, realizing that one of them wasn’t asleep; they had been nailed to the mattress and was cut open from his hips to collar bone. Rage boiled in me, they were forced to sleep with their dead friend and among filth and refuse.

Tearing up, I moved back into the kitchen and looked back to man, his whisky colored eyes pleading with me. “How do you know you can trust me?” I asked him seriously.

He gently held up my right arm, peeling back the rags and tapped my Pip-Boy. “Yellow be mellow.” He smiled, raising his own hidden Pip-Boy.

I nodded and fiddled in my pack, dumping the contents onto the table. “How can I help?” I knew I wasn’t able to shoot someone in the face; maybe at least I had something that could help him.

The chef gave me the tiniest smile as he sat opposite me. Glancing over what I did have to offer, he plucked up the metal disks and some of the scrap metal I had picked up. “This is a start, we’ll need to get them away from the kids, or kill them.”

I blinked, “Kill them?”

He looked at me like in the same way Clarisse did when I protested when she stomped on a roach. With a sigh he closed his honey-gold eyes, “I know you are just from a Vault, you mightn’t understand this or even like this, everyday people die out here. Raider or not; sometimes people have to die when there are no other options.” He explained as he looked over the metal disks.

After half-an-hour an angry knock tapped sharply at the door. Looking up from the counter where I was cleaning out several fragmentation grenades that chef had disarmed, filling them with a strand of wire and sticking it down with Wonderglue, I looked over to the man who had yet to give me his name.

“Just a few minutes, just dishing it up how you like it!” he shouted from the oven. He wasn’t cooking human meat, he had taken a slab of funny looking meat, which suspiciously looked like a bug carapace and was frying it to stall what little time he could. Turning to me as he finalized his plan; quickly telling me the details and strolled off without further delay, using an old trolley to deliver the raiders their dinner. I kept several metres behind him and stopped as he entered the front entrance; where I peeked in from the doorway.

“About fucking time,” the nearest raider sneered then swore again as the woman with the angel winged hair back handed the raider with a growl.

“Get the fuck back, meat!” she screamed, standing beside the large pot, tapping the top. No sooner had she done that, the disobedient underling came back swearing obscenities at her. With a leer, the woman gave a bitter smile and raised her .48 magnum and shot him in the head, brain and bone matter splattering against the wall and several raiders beside him.

“Meat go boom!” another raider giggled, chewing on his bottom lip as chunks of brain dripped from his Mohawk.

Angel wing smirked, licking the splattered blood off her lips and turned back to the pot, “Okay, first, get your asses up; second get the fuck in line. We may be raiders, we are fuckin’ Red Belly’s and we respect who’s in charge.” She barked, turning to my unnamed cohort, “Vince, get your ass to your new girl, either tell her to fuckin’ calm down and grow some or put her in the next pot.”

Vince, I now knew, smiled half-heartedly hiding his rage, “Of course Angel.” He nodded briskly and backed away as fast as he could, “The little bitch, she’ll cook up good as ribs.” Vince chuckled, mouthing numbers; counting down from ten as Angel kept talking.

“I said get in line you fucks!” she roared, slapping one upside the head near the back of the line.

Vince grabbed my arm, pulling me on swiftly into a broom closet as-

**BOOM!!!**

Shrapnel blew outwards from all directions as the disks- which Vince had informed were called landmines, a type of explosive. Possessing all manner of explosive talent he wired the landmines to the pot lid, which would explode when the lid was removed above five centimetres.

Looking up at Vince, I realized why he wore that God awful lantern on his head; it was to hide the fact that his eyes were cybernetic. Raising a hand I traced just below his eyes, “By the Stars…” I whispered almost reverently, they were something I had never dreamed of. He gave me an awkward smile, blinking and looked away. I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed of just didn’t want me to freak out at him and call him a monster.

Coughing from the shake of dust that fell from the ceiling when he slammed the door closed, he pushed past me, exiting the broom closet. Stepping out after him, he drew out his crowbar surveying the day care’s entrance; which was now spattered with blood and innards of the five raiders that had been blasted apart, the remaining four had died from shrapnel wounds. Clenching my jaw; I swallowed and strode forward with Vince at my side as he started picking up various weapons that weren’t turned into twisted pieces of metal or splinters from around the room.

“There are only nine bodies here.” He stated, standing tall with a handful of bullet types, several shot-guns, makeshift melee weapons and low-grade pistols in hand. He plonked half into my pack and settled the rest on his belt as he strode past me; he jammed two of the crowbars into the doors, duck taping them around both ends, successfully blocking the door. Giving me a cocky smile; Vince walked past me, urging me to move to the playground entrance where I had originally entered and helped him hold position for the remaining Red Belly raiders.

I was in no way eager to take up point by the rear door waiting for several murderous men and woman to kill me. I gritted my teeth as the door handle drew down and snapped up as someone entered, pulling my 10ml and looking down the sight. A pair of raiders grinned, rolling several grenades’ inside, which prompted both Vince and I to dodge back into the hall as our pursuers cackled with murderous glee.

Leaning back against the wall, I glanced over to Vince; who had loaded his shot-gun with orange banded rounds. Bending his head, he waited for footsteps inspecting whether or not we were blown to bits. Once the raider stepped around the corner, his eyes widened. He drew a less than cared for SMG to bear and started to fire pot-shots. As soon as he started to fire, Vince ducked, propping up his knee and jammed the shot-gun under the male raiders jaw and pulled the trigger, plastering bone and brain against the ceiling, setting the body alight in a red glaze.

Ducking back against the wall before the raider fell to the ground in a burning heap, the other raider had been two steps behind and got a sweep kick under her legs from me and a boot slammed down on her chest, winding but not stopping her. She let out a pained grunt, reaching for her shot-gun as I kicked it away, clattering across the blood coated floor. In obvious discomfort, she drew a knife from her belt and kicked my legs from out from under me, pinning me to the floor as I fell. Rolling over me, she snapped at my face, bearing her yellowed, rotten teeth with a cackling snarl. Raising her dulled kitchen knife, she shouted in murderous glee as she brought the blade down. I clenched my eyes shut, ready for death even as hard as I tried to keep her hand at bay and her mouth from any vulnerable flesh.

A crack echoed in the room as Vince kicked the raiders head, sending a snap in her jaw, she screamed rolling off me clutching her jaw. My savior pinned her to the ground, for a moment he stopped, staring into the almost blue eyes of the thrashing raider between his legs. He gave a small, sad smirk, something that parried with regret and denial.

He snapped her neck.

Standing, the once gruesome chef looked at me and nodded for me to follow him outside. As I traced his steps, I looked at the dead woman’s face, had she been important to him? Always questions and never answers in my life. I wonder if that’s all I have in life, a buildup of questions and half-useful answers and a myriad of red-taped lies.

***        ***        ***

Quickly, we crept under the hedge; crawling on our bellies behind a pair of raiders who stared aimlessly at the sky. Vince nodded towards our right; I had to distract these two. I guessed correctly that it was time for food delivery again.

I stood be the side of the day care, holding a tray with a pouch in one hand and pushed my other back, slamming the door against its frame. The two raiders turned, eyeing me with suspicion as I down cast my eyes and held out the tray trembling. “Angel told me you both have to have dinner,” thrusting out the tray I mock whimpered, “She wishes the children to be… be prepared.” I swallowed and dared to look up. The raiders grabbed the tray, pushing past me into the building; I heard muffled shots. I turned around; un-holstering my 10 mil as the door opened.

A hand clamped over my mouth, pulling me against the blood spattered door and decayed wall. As bits of gore dripped down the wall, Vincent leaned past me and pointed upwards; the snipers on the roof. Leading me around, he lead me up a rather rickety and rusted stairwell bolted into the wall. Climbing upwards in a crouch, I eeped, realizing I had never been anywhere this high in my life, well the Atrium upper landing didn’t count. At least it hand been secure and not wasted away in two hundred year old destruction to natures elements. I kept close to the wall and winced as Vince stood, calling out to the two snipers.

“Hey, you guys! There’s been an attack!”

“We know cunt!” one screamed as a round near missed my ear by a few inches. To which I flattened myself to the stairs and balked as the two snipers switched weapons, drawing down twin welders’ masks and used something I would never forget. Shinning, strong metal barrels that emptied torrents of fire at me, scorching the cement roof and stairwell around me- flamethrowers.

“God anal probe you with the sun!” Vince screamed as his hat caught on fire; running back to fire escape, he jumped onto the rotted and metal screeching under his weight. His burning hat fell to the ground below.

“You first you bloody drongo!” the other raider cackled; switching the levers on his flamethrower, changing the intensity of the flame, creating a wall of blue-white broiling temperature. The intense heat melted the air-con above me, dripping lethal metallic drops of heat a foot from my head. They continued their onslaught, as we waited for an opening and threw something that Vince and I cobbled together.

Well mostly Vince, I watched him with interest for a while, then fiddled with a locked safe and drank Rosemans drinks.

The orb rolled behind them, exploded with a thump, shooting out a canister of nails and ball-bearings impacting with the raiders legs, slashing at their bodies and striking at the tanks. A few lucky bits of shrapnel hit the flamethrower gas tubes, tearing them open, spewing the gas into the air.

The two raiders screamed, turning their flamethrowers off, knocking them off their backs and retreated to the air-conditioner on the roof to resume taking pot-shots at Vince and I. We didn’t give them that chance; I kicked out at their already weakened legs, crushing them against the still cooling metal which combined with their bare flesh and searing metal. Screaming murder, the first sniper came to a bloody end when Vince right-hooked him off the roof while the other raider cried in agony as he cut his legs free. Slapping medical bandages on his searing calves and injecting several Stim-packs as he raised one last trick, a beyond macabre chainsaw.

It had skulls dangling from its grip.

Looking to Vince, who had lost his shot-gun over the fire escape and his crowbar, was being used as the barricaded in the entrance below. I gulped, taking the stance I knew from practice. Entering V.A.T.S, time slowed around me; I lined up several shots and fired.

The raider’s weapon swung into the air; carving into the roof, squealing to a stop, as one of the raider’s hands slapped wetly beside it. Said raider howled in agony, glaring at me, he ripped his shirt off, tying it around his bleeding stump and injected something into his wrist. Standing, he walked towards his chainsaw, ready to take it up again.

One shot, I could do it.

One shot to kill.

After all, red means dead. I choked up, looking to Vince; he gave me a sardonic look. Turning back to the struggling raider I gasped. “Stay down.” He continued to move. The fire had seared his mask to immense temperatures; the gas had swept underneath, blistering the skin around his jaw and neck. “Please, stay down!” blood pumped into my ears, drowning out my thoughts in fear.

Stubborn, insane, murderous… he just didn’t stop.

Grasping the handle of the buried chainsaw; the raider let out a crazed laugh, rising in pitch and volume. I felt tears beckoning, why couldn’t I do it? Why? A murderer, a cannibal, a living psycho-path! Vince slipped behind me, wrapping his hands around the 10ml, taking it as the raider started the chainsaw and screamed in pure delight, ripping the welders mask off, revealing an insane grin with a blistered face and a burned smoking eye.

I closed my eyes as the shot rang out in my ears, the sound reaching out eternally as the raiders grin was forever etched into my mind.

“Red isn’t always dead…” Vince whispered, wrapping an arm around me. The blinding pain in my body and mind, threatened to drag my down into the darkness, I fumbled at my pocket for my medicine. I felt a warm hand move mine away, a few seconds and I felt a prick in my arm, glancing down I saw a syringe as I lost consciousness.

***        ***        ***

I was hurt.

But not too badly.

It felt as though something had clawed at the base of my ribs and set several on fire. My head thumped with the theme of battle drums. It was then I thought that dreams shouldn’t hurt like this. Even worse, I realized that it wasn’t a dream and I wasn’t wearing my jumpsuit.

Tilting my hips over, I realized that it was a bad idea and whimpered. Biting my lip I looked out of my peripheral vision that I could see, the group of children were sitting around one of the burning trash bins talking in soft voices, while Vince watched them with a wary eye.

Gingerly I moved my fingers over my ribs and hissed; bad idea to touch injured ribs. My ear twitched as I turned my head; seeing the red haired man smiling behind me. “You okay?”

“What happened?” I asked, feeling an odd burn in my arms. I remembered something, something happening in my consciousness and drugged mind. Something bad enough, that I got injured from it. “Are the kids alright?” I asked quickly, my head whipping around to check each one.

“On the way back, seems like the raider I punched off the roof had managed to survive. He didn’t take too kindly to that and decided to take it out on you by jumping us in the hallway. He didn’t get far, he triggered one of the tripwires,” he coughed nervously, looking away trying to hide a smile, “A bit of debris, a child’s ball smacked you with enough force to bruise your ribs.”

“Nnnn, why?” I grumbled, trying in vain to push myself off my stomach. If I had not come back, I would have left him alone. Why did kindness get thrown back at me all the time?

“Cause you were trying to steal people’s meals lady. I mean Joey gets mad when someone steals his food.” A little Latino boy with ginger hair stated, nodding to a small Aboriginal boy with dreadlocked hair. He looked up and smiled, waving a can of Cram at me. Glancing around, I noticed that all the kids were eating various kinds of pre-war food. I groaned again trying to roll my butt out of bed.

“Who shot him?” I asked groggily, sniffing, I smelt the tart tang of medical salve. Vince or one of the kids must have slapped some on my bruise ribs. I hoped that the children hadn’t been forced to kill, as terrible as it was; I hoped that Vince had shot the raider or drove him off.

“Oh,” one of the kids piped up, a little girl with hair so curly and poufy that it wouldn’t stay in her pony-tail smiled, “I did that!” I blinked, my hope dashed as she giggled as one of her friends licked some orange powder of her cheek and proceeded to rip open a pack of vibrant orange treat.

“You did that?” I balked, as I watched her spin a pistol in her hand and holstered it with ease. I had the skill to do the same; it just pained to wish that the girl was just playing with a toy gun that a killer weapon. This was not how the world worked now, she knew how to use a weapon in her young age and given the chance, she would not sit back and be shot at.

Looking around, why were raiders butchering and eating people when they had plenty of other things to eat? Even if the food was pre-war and had so many preservatives in it, it was most likely to keep your corpse alive for decades after your brain died. I looked at the poufy haired girl and nodded to Vince, sitting up, I grimaced and exhaled. “Can someone give me something to eat, their name and how you got here in the first place; or should I regale my pain to you all?” I added with a long groaning moan. The boy called Joey opposite me shrugged and threw me a box of Taloona snack cakes into my lap. Picking them up, I ripped open a pack and chomped down on the jelly filled bun, moaning in sweet delight.

“I’m Doreen,” a girl with stark black hair smiled at me, she motioned in the half circle clockwise, “Me, Joey, Tinny-Pop, Paul and Tuni come from Lone. And Lexie came from Col’s a little bit south-west from here. We were on our way back with a job completed for Prospector Seven.”

With no idea if Lexie and Tuni were their real names, I shrugged, at least Tinny-Pop looked normal, “Um, I’m Ambi Winter.”

“And you know me, Vincent.” Vince smiled, ruffling Lexie’s hair, to which the young boy made a peculiar gurgling sound, his green eyes shining.

“I’va heard som’ funny names, Ambi is just a nutter of one. I mean we have Alexander and Petunia, nothin’ weirder than yours.” Tuni piped up; pulling strands of string out of her choppy black hair and used them to tie up her half eaten Chalet cookies and put them in one of her many pockets.

Doreen stepped over littered cans and sat next to me with a wide, cheeky grin, “You may not be a fighter, but you had a knack for picking up some good stuff. I mean that too; using those bobby pins to open a safe. Never thought of that before, especially using a screwdriver too.”

My red haired companion chuckled, giving me a sly grin, “We used most of the bandages you found in the nurses office on the kids. Had to use one on you, had a damn shard of shrapnel in you. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his head.

I shrugged and shook my head, “I don’t mind.” I looked at him and snickered, “Sorry about your hat and lantern. I got one if you want it.” I offered.

Vincent opened his mouth, Doreen looked at him and clamped her hands over his mouth, “No, no, that hat was awful!”

“Looked like a creepy bogeyman, a creepy bogeyman from a graveyard!” Paul agreed, shivering from the image while he waved his forearms around to emphasize his point. The children descended into laughter as Vincent rolled his eyes, hiding a forming smile. I think I had to agree. Vincent in a dark and abandoned grave yard wearing that hat and lantern, in the middle of the night would be frightening sight indeed.

“His glowing eyes, like butterscotch candies floating in the dark, coming to get you!”

“Whoooo~ Bogey, bogey, bogeyman with candle bright, coming at you in the night.”

As they laughed around me, I sat back and revised my day. Not even a full day in the waste and I had barely scraped by, nearly losing my life to a bunch of cannibals that had raped, killed and ate people on a regular basis. What would happen in a week or month? My bet was more bullets and near death shaves before I got even a kilometer within reach of my sisters and Gasper.

One hell of a kilometer.

 

* * *

**_Footnote: Level up!_**

_**New perk:** Educated Vaulter – Being around so many books, a learning place of smart people has made you realize how good you had it in your home vault, comprehending this, you vow to learn more and keep that knowledge. You add +2 skill points each time you gain a new experience level._

_**Bonus Perk received:** Child-like delight – Due to your understanding of children (or perhaps your smaller than average stature) you appear as a non-hostile to children and adults who are related to a child._

_When coupled with Child at Heart; grants you the ability to be seen as a kinder person, no matter their Karma if they have a child, and better understood by children who would otherwise spit in your eye than listen to you._

_**Companion Perk:** As long as Vincent is your companion~_

_Step lightly, disarm untraced: You excelled at not activating any explosive traps during your exploration of the child care facility and among crazy raiders! Your companion is impressed and has granted you tips at a 50% chance to bypass disarm traps and explosives below the level of 50._


	5. Chapter Three: Childhood fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambs and Vincent are tasked with a job from Vincent's old trading buddy Balthazar, a nervous man afraid of beetles. Work goes astray and there isn't much to do about the problem of rogue robots and self important radio hosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Australian humor makes itself present here. I hope people enjoy this fanfiction, any and all comments are welcome.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter Three:** Childhood fears

_“Beetles? You’re afraid of beetles?”_

_“Beatles! Crawled into my bed and skittered all over me when I was a wee nipper!”_

 

 Mechanics.

When I was learning how to repair something in Twenty-Four, the teacher was quiet rude and not at all helpful. All sorts of skills were required to be taught at a young age to find what we could do and focus on that as we grew older. I was only twelve at the time, I can clearly remember my teacher, Mrs. Smiyth yelling at me because I had not assembled the practice set of pipe-network during class.

I had cried and been so convinced that I was useless.

Years later, I realized that she was not at all supportive and was seriously a terribly flawed teacher. The only reason why she had the job was because she showed finesse with repair and maintenance; however she had developed terrible Parkinson’s disease and couldn’t work in maintenance for several years. I felt sorry for her; nothing could excuse her mistreatment of a child in need of help.

Now, I was glad that I had a compliant, willing, albeit temporary teacher.

I twisted the screw carefully; turning it into the hole and grinned as the now rust free shot-gun almost sparkled in the light of the sun from the slanted window. Well almost, considering the very sky looked kind of poisonous. Compared to what I had seen in text books and pre-war films, the air almost seemed filtered through a toxic breath of radiation and the sky was pushed through a fouls tinted filter covering the world.

Shaking that ludicrous thought from my mind, I smiled and showed my attempt to Vince. “So, like this?”

He took the shot-gun, looking it over; breech, stock and barrel. Humming as he tightened one of the screws and smiled handing it back to me. “Good job, make sure you keep it clean.”

With my own grin, I continued helping him change, assemble and clean the remaining weapons. “Good thing you had the right tools for the job.” I chuckled, sliding the shot-gun into a harness I found in one of the footlockers; the only one that had been spared from the pile of bodies it had been buried under.

“Yup, always take my tools everywhere I go.” He nodded, modifying the scope on the sniper rifle with parts from the second sniper rifle to make one half-way-decent. From the group of weapons that had been held by the Red Belly raiders; the moderate pile of weapons had ended up becoming one knife, one crowbar, and one sniper rifle, one shot-gun, two pistols, one bat, one magnum, one flamethrower, one SMG and the chainsaw.

A little treasure trove of fiscal opportunity.

While I was out, I found out that Vincent and the children had indeed collected all the ammo, recoverable barding, supplies and salvageable items in the day care. Vincent had gone so far to even collect the data off the terminals around the building and collected it on his Pip-Boy- which he said he transferred over to mine, in case I wanted something to read; since he noticed me downloading Mrs Kross’s entries.

After that was when Tuni and Vincent had decided to help me learn about weapon maintenance and how to manage weapon weight. Which was arduous and I kept getting grease on my face. However, several hours later it became absurd to stay around the stench of rotting bodies, as unbearable as it was, I asked Vincent to help me move the bodies outside. He argued with me, saying that over time animals, bugs and time would take care of them. I argued back that everyone deserved a proper burial. He conceded with a grumble that was true.

While repairing, I admit I had a bit of help from a magazine, ‘701 things to repair with Wonderglue’ that I had found in an old desk in the reading room. Along with a second magazine surprisingly called ‘Crackers hearing’. At first I thought the second one was about drugs or an improper racial slur. Turned out it was a terrible pun on Lock picking. I had decided to thumb through it later, after all magazines didn’ disappear after being read once.

Because that would be incredibly insane, and a completely stupid business practice.

Even if it was unceremonious; Vincent and I used old sheets and a rusted wheelbarrow to move all the bodies outside to a growing pile. We buried the young boy whose name was Ben, under small tree, carving his name into the trunk. It was soon that we realized that it would be impossible to bury them all, cringing, we lay the bodies out in a vaulted pile and lit them on fire.

Standing before the bodies, I was surprised when Vincent stepped beside me whispering softly. “All these men and woman were not evil. Some changed over hardships; they became less than human, monsters on this earth to cope with the way of the world. Good may turn to evil, evil can be redeemed. Through death, repentance otherwise forever paying for past sins, evil dies in all ends.”

Giving him an appreciative look, I smiled; this man was a kinder soul than I thought.

***        ***        *** 

It was late in the day, at least an hour or so past dusk, we all agreed hanging around the day care was depressing and we needed to move on.

Before we left, I retrieved my duffel bag and excess junk and queried Tuni did they look in that pen out back and free the captives. She replied that they had been mannequins that had been covered with skin and blood (I had my suspicions they weren’t living). The movement had been by something called a Radroach, a mutated giant version of cockroaches I had seen on occasion back in the Vault. She affirmed that Radroaches had been duck taped against the mannequins with their legs waving frantically against the clothing covering them. Oddly, they seemed tame- that was before the children stomped their heads in and harvested the flesh.

At least I now knew where Vincent had gotten the insect carapace from before.

I decided to ignore the fact that people actually ate insects and be glad to know that the raiders had hidden their best medical supplies, spare ammunition and expensive junk among the pretend captives. I thought it was a genius idea; the only way it could have been improved was by mines or automated weapon sentries. We continued south for nearly half an hour when the children decided that they wanted to split and continue where they needed to go, and mentioned that they needed to pick up the weapons, supplies and delivery they dumped before the Red Belly’s caught them. They were smart kids, a lot smarter than I was at that age.

They insisted that I keep the weapons and supplies I had gotten from the raiders as payment or something ridiculous. Even after all we had been through a short time ago, only two stayed with me; Vincent with his cocky smile and the odd little aboriginal boy Lexie, who had not yet said a word to me since I laid eyes on him.

I watched the small group, not one within a year old enough to get a Pip-Boy, walk out into the waste full of monsters, marauders and all sort of weird shit towards their home. I really hoped that they made it home in one piece. I wasn’t exceptionally smart, average, but I could see that these kids were alone in the world, they were orphans. Why else would they be alone in a horrible place such as the wasteland? When Vincent caught me staring sadly at the girls and boys; he nodded with a knowing look.

The children finally left my eyesight and out of range of my Pip-Boy’s Friend-or-Foe tracker. Keeping my eyes on my Pip-Boy to distract myself, I sighed and selected the entry marked ‘Orana Avenue medical’.

Entries of one Mr. John Cartelson-

 **Entry 3:** The children are restless; Max has been especially skittish whenever someone touches his companion dog Mr. Patches. I think the dog is odd, I know for a fact that the Mr. Patches is over twenty-two years old, yet still has the vigour of a year old puppy.

Wound: Scratched knee and elbows, Max fell over, running after Mr. Patches.

Fixed: Band-aid, a kiss on his ‘owies’, a lollipop and a reminder that running was only for grass.

 **Entry 4:** Mr Young came in today, complaining that his granddaughter has been oppressed by learning here, that there are wrong children here. I explained to him that all children in our day care were Australian born and didn’t even know the concept of war at their age. He got aggravated, saying that Sun lovers would end us all. He withdrew his granddaughter late this afternoon, squawking about his dead daughter and son-in-law. He couldn’t blame this on several of the Australian-Japanese descent children could he?

Wound: Shallow gash across Mrs. Kross’s cheek from Mr. Young’s car scattering gravel.

Fixed: Benadine and a band-aid, Mrs. Kross opted for a serving of pudding instead of a lollipop.

 **Entry 5:** Found Blake feeding toy money into the employee break room soft-drink machine again, I know he knows the money isn’t real. He does it to get sympathy for someone to buy him a soft-drink, which I also did as a child.

Wound: Slight bump from slipping into Rosemans soft-drink machine.

Fixed: A band-aid, kiss on his head with a promise that he would stop lockpicking doors.

I rubbed my eyes; what kind of dog lived that long? What kind of rube would purposely let propaganda in a day care? Shaking my head I huffed; taking out a Rosemans Lemonade taking a swig as I walked. As I put the bottle cap in my bag; to recap the bottle latter, I realized that I had an absurd amount of bottle caps in my bag. “Hey Vincent, why are there so many caps in my bag? Planning to start a collection or something?” I smiled and saw Lexie giggle in his odd way, tugging on Vincent’s sleeve.

With a wry smile my red haired companion gave me a wink, “Don’t you know? That’s the currency of the waste. Drinks or Stim-packs work well as currency too,” Lexie tugged his sleeve, he looked down and watched the boy suck on something imaginary, pull it away and breathe out. “Yes, smokes too.”

I frowned, “So, a system based on a good that inevitably must be very heavy in quantity at some point due to being made of metal, and makes soft-drink bottles near useless without a stopped or cap to hold liquid on other occasions. That is a bit stupid.” Both of them laughed, I just pouted at them. Considering that I was pointing out the obvious and the stupid, laughing was their only option.

“It’s funny when a Vaultie has no idea about life outside their home.” Vincent chuckled, as he wiped away his tearing eyes. Hm, maybe his eyes weren’t all cybernetic like I had first thought.

I continued to pout as we backtracked past the bridge I had been saved by MD earlier that day; travelling in several hundred metres until we came to a road that was blocked by the twisted wreckage of several trucks and cars. Remarkably, all the trucks were still attached to their rigs, which had melted and in no way would be easy to remove or get through. I looked to my companions, noticing that they had both started to walk along the left side of the build up and down an unblocked road further along.

“If we take this road, then a left in a hundred metres or so, we can double back and stay somewhere safe for tonight.” Vincent called back at me over his shoulder.

I jogged to catch up to him and frowned at his mannerism, “Did anyone tell you it is quite rude to walk away from someone, let alone a lady?”

Without turning his head, Vincent shrugged, “If I see one, tell her I said ‘g’day’.” A grin spread across his lips, “Yes, I know you are a lady Amb’s, you’re just a kid though.”

I blinked.

Of course he didn’t realise my age. He, like many in my life had thought that I am much younger than what I truly was based on my looks and physique. Smiling, I kept my opinions to myself. I was about to ask how he knew the area so well when I felt something warm move into my hand. A shiver went down my spine, my legs bent to jump away; I looked down and saw Lexie looking up at me with a big smile. Relaxing my muscles, I smiled back at the boy, squeezing his hand. As we walked, Vincent pointed out various buildings in the area, what he knew about their history and if there was anything there to see.

“That there is an old Diesel Dingo fuel station,” he explained, pointing to a squat building surrounded by a sea of cracked cement covered in dead weeds and garbage. “Before the war, prices for about a litre reached up twelve-hundred dollars.”

Looking at the cartoon image of a Dingo cuddling a petrol canister I nodded, “That was why various countries across the world invested in nuclear energy right?” I asked, recalling what little I knew of pre-war economics and energy supplies.

Giving me a pat on the head, Vincent smiled, “Yep, practically all nations that were already invested in nuclear furthered its development; from power-plants, weapons, cars and toasters.”

That stopped me dead in my tracks, right in the middle of the street. “Toasters?” He nodded, “Make-your-bread-nice-and-crispy toaster?” Lexie let out a snicker and swung my arm between us, eager to move on. “Pre-war people, what were they thinking?” I groaned, looking at Vincent with an incredulous demeanour. “You are joking right?”

He gave me a shrug and continued on, whistling a merry old tune.

The man would be the death of me.

Sighing, I continued after him, with Lexie at my side we followed our fearless tour guide onto a road and took a right that would lead us back to where the wreckage had blocked off our current destination. As we walked, I noticed a scattering of weathered letters at my feet. Bending down, I inspected several; noticing that they were all chewed and some were partially pulpy around the edges. If it had been water, the envelopes would have been wavy after drying. Pondering this, I glanced at the post box not too far from where I was. Ten years into the resource war; Australian post boxes were changed to an extended perpendicular design and painted midnight blue and white; the colours of the Bureau of Internal Affairs.

I guess that post was being spied on.

I stretched my body as I stood up, meaning to continue on with my patient companions, I stopped, as movement entered in my peripheral vision. On the side of the wreckage facing towards me, it looked as if it had an odd discolouration, as if there was a coat of iridescent paint over the twisted metal. Narrowing my eyes, I noticed that the coat moved, as if it were a shimmering wave. Quickly, I realized what shimmered and moved in unison like that.

Turning my head up to Vincent, I ran to warn him, I was too late to see that he knew too and was ready; he armed himself with his crowbar in one hand and a 9mil in the other. As my eye line moved back to the wreck- the shimmering wave moved, rushing at us with a sharp buzz that cut through the air as it came at us.

Praising the Majesties and the Stars for the post box, especially since it was unlocked and I didn’t have time to waste busting it open. I moved Lexie inside, asking him to wait and shut the door, I stood up, drawing out my ten-mil.

The wave screeched in high pitched clicks as it came upon Vincent and I the wave dispersing, becoming individual creatures. More than three dozen of them flew at us, their iridescent carapaces distorting their true numbers in their attack. “What are they?!” I cried out, shooting one in the face- er, mandible as the buzzing grew louder.

“They’re Radbeetles!” Vincent shouted over the buzzing, squashing one of the beetles, “Mutated from some harmless garden beetle before the war!”

“Harmless?!” I questioned him, as several of the Radbeetles went after the squashed, still alive beetle and ripped it apart. Oh goody, cannibals. “They’re not harmless now!” I screamed shooting a beetle that wanted to give my face a hug, a face dismembering, skin piercing and eye gouging hug. Within seconds we had taken half of the Radbeetles down, however I noticed that the rest were getting smart. While several tried to distract us by dive bombing us, the others were attempting to eat our shins.

The moment one of the ferocious little buggers skittered away in fright when a spark off a bullet set some garbage in the streets on fire. Vincent must have had an Incinerator rounds for his nine-mil.

They were afraid of it.

“Vincent, Flamer!” I yelled, kicking two of the bugs of his back.

He looked over his shoulder at me, throwing his crowbar for me to catch, “Get by my back,” he warned, holstering his nine-mil and hoisted the Flamer’s arm down and let loose a stream of fire. The Radbeetles chittered rapidly, desperately trying to avoid the torrent of fire. The few that were able to fly away were able to fly out of reach seemed to buzz in anger as the flames set the rest ablaze in a wall of fire. As they were momentarily distracted, I shot the Radbeetles that weren’t of fire out of the sky.

Like ash on the wind, the remaining of the Radbeetles fell to the ground around us, dead before they burned black. Many, already withered as their legs curled inwards against their thoraxes. Looking up and down the street, I kept my gun ready, hoping there were no more Radbeetles about.

Vincent lowered the Flamer, pushing the arm back into its original position; he smiled at me and walked over to the post box and lightly tapped on it, “Come out buddy.”

Lexie, hot from being in a small space for a short time that had no ventilation, poked out his tongue while wrinkling his nose at the dead Radbeetles littering the ruined street. He pointed to one, taking Vincent’s knife; he pried open several of the dead insects of the ground and put them into the small pack on his back, then handed the knife back to Vincent.

Raising an eyebrow, I shrugged. I wondered about that boy. Considering I had only met him earlier in the day, I felt he was relatively normal in the circumstance of the wasteland. Considering he was mute, shy or the fact he grew up in a place that seemed the only thing not trying to kill you were plants and rocks. Sighing, I followed them to a small building that had a faded display painted of patrons enjoying ice cream cones and various goods served inside. Tilting my head, I read the partially faded lettering above the rusted screen door.

 **Groceries n’ Goods** ,

Last stop to shop before the highway.

No beetle/spiders/scorpions/ants.

My eyes travelled along the small building’s façade; spring green, bright and cheery drawing anyone who can see it. It must have been repainted since the war, as a building painted in that particular shade of green would have been and eyesore. I smiled slightly, eyeing the fairy lights strung around a mannequin next to the door. This seemed a bit odd to me.

“G-get away!” a sharp girlish voice squealed, taking a shot at Vincent, I snatched Lexie and pulled him away from the doorway and out of the line of fire.

Of the two, my taller companion swore under his breath and banged on the door, “Bal, keep your damn gun away, do I look like a roach to you?” Blinking, I heard someone cough and pushed open the door. Vince taking one step onto the entrance way gave us a sharp nod to follow. I held Lexie close and followed them inside.

Inside the store; I had hoped for something nice, maybe a cold drink (Moderately cold, I knew cold drinks would be a luxury) and a place to sleep that didn’t have blood splattered over it. I couldn’t say that I was disappointed, more akin to freaked out by what I saw than by what I didn’t see. All around were broken cases that were once free-standing ice-coolers, lining the walls were shelves of goods that ranged from common place rusted cans, to odd looking boxy objects that looked like guns, which took on a more science fiction approach in design. Almost like something from a pre-war science fiction movie.

Glancing to my left was a well reinforced barricade made of assorted junk and metal sheets; behind sat a man that looked easily old enough to be my father, with an assortment of guns rigged to point and most likely- fire at the door on command. Which, were now pointed at me. Oh Stars….

I looked to Vincent; he gave a shrug and smiled at the twitchy man with interest.

“Vincent, why didn’t you give me sign it was you? I could have blown a hole in your chest,” the man nervously laughed, shifting from foot to foot. His eyes flicked up to his head, frowning, “You usually lit that lantern you had…”

Vincent gave a nervous laugh, slapping the older man on the shoulder, “Balthazar, you have to stop letting your fears rule you.” He smiled and sat down on one of the counter, one of the few that weren’t covered in wares and cash registers.

Balthazar sighed, closing his eyes and rubbed his eyelids gingerly. When he opened them, he looked at all of us with a tired smile. “So you ah, got here okay?” I was worried when you didn’t meet me two weeks ago. I even sent several messages to Tan-Worth, asking about you.”

“Hm, only several?” the younger man mock gasped, “You care that little about me old friend?”

The fidgety man moved his hat and shrugged, “Well how can I not when a friend decides to hang with some new friends with leather jackets.” Both men eyed each other, a tense moment between them. Barely a moment later they both laughed, slapping each other on the back and talked about old times and possible business ventures.

With a smile, I decided to let them be and wandered around Balthazar’s store, taking a finer eye to the various goods- as this was the first store I had come across since I left my Vault earlier in the morning. After inspecting them closer, I realized that the ice-coolers contained decahedrons of bottles of liquids that were tinted with sickly brown and warm amber hues with awe-inspiring names like; Midnight and Storm, Ursa Rum and Bitter Queen. I knew that the amber liquid was whisky, the brown liquids was beer, my interest was lost soon after as I took a sniff of the unknown orangey-brown rum liquid and wrinkled my nose.

Smelled like cleaning solvent.

Placing the Ursa Rum bottle back, I wandered past the ice-coolers and perused a shelf with various pre-war books and magazines. As I sifted through the copies, albeit battered copies, there were several I recognized right away; Call that a knife and Mechanics of stealth. Not surprisingly, most were of them contained subjects not familiar to me. A smile crept over my lips as a small square book caught my eye. One that had a well-known figure of Vault-Tec on the front, the figure was Vault boy as a small cute baby on the front. Picking the children’s book up, my smile widened as I thumbed through the pages, the explanations of people’s natural abilities always made me chuckle.

When I was very small, I remember sitting in a play-pen with other toddlers listening to the child carer of Vault Twenty-Four. He explained how everyone was unique and special; that everyone could be their best they could be if they tried their hardest. Of course I believed that. I tried over and literally failed at every job allotment in the vault. I think they were just going to put me in administration in the end. It wasn’t my fault that I spent time learning the skills.

Looking up, I sighed.

Gently, I placed _You’re Special_ back on the shelf, giving it one last glance then wandered down the aisle past an almost disturbing amount of coffee cups. Past rows packed with various junk ranging from normal scrap I had seen in my home Vault and out here in the wasteland, to food in all sorts of forms. It was then I thought of something ridiculous. Why on earth were there so many clipboards everywhere? I had seen so many in the most absurd places; the odd thing was that they did not seem to be at all damaged in the near two hundred period of neglect.

I walked over to Vincent and asked him so.

He gave me a funny look and chuckled, “Clipboards are in such abundance because of the rarity of what they are made of.”

I felt a tingle along my neck, looking to my side I saw Lexie brushing a black feather against me. Turning back to Vincent I shrugged, “What are they made of?”

The red head gave me a deadly gaze, “Stubborchite, a rare, near invulnerable metal was discovered in the south-Atlantic oceans twenty years before the war.”

What?

Oh, you clever man.

I looked at my nails, feigning disinterest, “Yes, I heard about that. Soon after the discovery, another metal in the region was found, it was named Jackassium.”

Balthazar gave a nervous laugh, “Yes, yes, very funny.” He clicked his fingers for Vincent’s attention, “Back to the matter at hand my boy, could you do me a favour?”

He clicked his fingers at the older man, “For one, stop doing that, two,” he turned to me, “Do you want to earn a place to sleep tonight?”

I frowned and looked from face to face, “Doing what exactly?” If it was something really insane, I was out. Or at least it would have to wait until tomorrow, while my sanity and sense of reason took an extended vacation during my waking hours.

Balthazar, as nervous as he seemed, leaned over the counter and propped his elbows up on it and inhaled, “You see, I have ah, a problem.” I nodded, “Some Radbeetles have gotten it in their heads that where I store most of my goods is their new home.”

Cogs worked in my head, “So, you want Vincent and I to remove these Radbeetles?” Balthazar shrugged; something in his face hinted something else, a darker emotion behind his nervous behaviour. “How come you haven’t done this yourself?” I asked, a theory quickly forming in my head.

The trader blanched and coughed, murmuring something about beds and crawling Radbeetles.

Vincent lamented and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, which set him at ease, “See, Bal here has a phobia of beetles, insects and arachnids in general, ever since he was a little kid. He offered us a place to stay for free, seeing as how the Red Belly’s stole, drank and did who knows what with what I was meant to bring down from Tan-Worth for him, I reckon I owed him for that.”

I gave him a warm smile, he was a good guy, and everyone had their own fears. “Balthazar, we’ll take care of the problem tomorrow.” I held out my hand, feeling like a hero from a pre-war adventurer comic, “It’s a contract.”

Taking my hand, the man genuinely smiled and showed us to one of several rooms at the back of his store, specifically one with an old bunk bed for the night. Hopefully the job for him wasn’t too hard.

 

***        ***        *** 

            “Ahhhhhhhh, it’s on fire!” I screamed for the third time as a row of metal shelving came down and nearly took my head clean off, its contents raining fire and metal all around me. Thankfully none of it was in the area that Balthazar had marked down as his merchandise.

            “I told you to watch out Amb’s, there are Mr. Handy’s everywhere in here.” Vincent reminded me over the speakers, in an almost bored tone. As if he had been chased by flaming orb robots of death before.

“Really? I had not noticed the hovering orbs of blades and fire!” I cried out, running around one of said murder orbs as it decided that I needed my organs aerated. I ducked, running into a maze of shelves, containers and boxes, getting turned around with each passing second.

When we took Balthazar’s offer, neither Vincent or I had thought there were robot’s in this massive storage shed. Turns out the Mister Handy had wandered in from who knows where and decided that we were hostiles.

 _“Your sun shall fall scum of Japan!”_ a distorted authoritative voice roared behind me, turning, I did the only thing I could think of; I started to climb up the shelves. I scrabbled up as fast as I could, cursing under my breath for my sheer stupidity, the face I had been on the _ground_ with that monstrosity!

When we had entered the somewhat dilapidated ruins of the old farming warehouse directly across the road from the fuel station, my companion had chuckled at the name of the warehouse;

 **_Golden Granaries Warehouse_ ** _,_

_We collect the head,_

_We are the head of the industry._  

I didn’t get what was so funny about it until he explained that it could be seen by some as an innuendo. I had glared at him as we passed into the warehouse under several deactivated turrets, simply believing that the Radbeetles had chewed through the wiring, on shorted out the circuitry in the control terminal. We both had been entirely wrong on that account. No sooner had we entered the ground floor of the warehouse, we got a few glances at some lumpy looking hives on the walls, security had activated.

We had run into the nearest room to avoid the active robots from killing us. Luckily, the nearest room had been the warehouses security station. Vincent examined the terminal, saying there were only the normal logs, updates and that he had no way to shut down the robots that patrolled the upper floor. The bit that got me was the turrets outside had activated and even then he couldn’t turn them off from the security station.

“The last log was made by one of the mechanic; he writes that the robots went crazy from an electrical discharge when an experimental harvester blew up.” Vincent read aloud from the terminal, “He couldn’t do anything as all of security in the vicinity had killed the workers and the human security on the main floor. He got into this room, trying to shut them down; he didn’t have the proper ID card, which the security officer who did by the grain bins near the offices did.”

We concluded that we had no way to shut anything off without that card, which was a drawback. On the upside, one of the updates had told us that something had severed internal security Friend-or-foe identifiers, meaning the Radbeetles had chewed into the cables or had made nests inside one of the security terminals. For the next few minute we had spent time taking off the back of terminals and inspected the internal components and killed any Radbeetles that popped out.

After that, we tried to think of a way to get out of the security room without getting electrical burns or beams of death from half-a-dozen security robots and wayward Mister Handy’s that were either patrolling the floor our shooting at the sealed and blocked door behind us. That was when I made a mistake. After shucking on a spare low-grade security uniform I found in a cabinet, I had decided to go out of the room while Vincent became my eyes and ears, talking to me from the speakers.

I had jumped from the open window and grabbed onto one of the heavy chains that hung from the vaulted ceiling and swung onto the nearest catwalk. I had rolled and stood running down the catwalk and into the offices- which my Pip-Boy told me that I had to go through a maze of broken rooms which had nothing but a handful of bottle caps and some delicious Butterscotch candies. I was lucky enough to avoid two of the walking robots that spoke in tinny voices and snuck past them into the staff bathroom.

The building was so dark, I was lucky that I found a capsule bottle of small green iridescent tablets called Cat-Eye in the bathroom. It gave me an advantage as I went around in the dark, tricking the two Protectrons- as what my Pip-Boy labelled them in my HUD and kicked them off a broken catwalk. With my confidence up, I had made my way through the remaining offices and snuck along the catwalks carefully- not knowing how steady they were after two hundred years of wear and decay.

That was when a flying monstrosity of a Mr. Handy had come at me, screaming death and started shooting electric green globs of plasma at me. With the catwalk block by another Protectron, I ran down a staircase, effectively the level above Vincent was below and jumped, grabbing yet another chain and slid down to ground level. Right then was when another Mr. Handy had streamed fire at me for encroaching on its space and fled to the top of the containers, panting for breath as the Mr. Handy continued its military styles rant at me from below.

 _“The sun shall die under the righteousness of the Stars!”_ it boomed, shooting at me hopelessly as I hid behind a metal support beam, which was gaining in temperature and warming my back.

“Ambi, you could try shooting it you know,” Vincent advised me from my right.

I looked up at him, pointing at the robot below me, “You want me to shoot that? If you remember, I don’t have a shotgun! We sold most of the gear we got from Orana Day care to Balthazar and you have the shotgun! Not to mention my Sniper rifle with Lexie!” I groaned, why had we underestimated these damn insects?

 _“Fiery hell for those of the rising sun!”_ the Mr. Handy blared, taking my attention as he activated his flame thrower, heating thee support beam to greater temperatures.

My right eye twitched, “I have had enough out of you!” I yelled, and started to throw whatever I had around me at the destructive orb, which was mostly metal tools and equipment. Most of the blunt objects just bounced of its protective casing, the heavier objects dented its aged casing and a buzz-saw blade jammed between the seams, piercing something vital within.   Effectively killing the Mr. Handy, it crashed to the floor in a heap as I growled at it, “Now stay down!”

With my heart pumping, I heard movement behind me. Glancing upwards, I saw the remaining two robots were milling about the catwalk looking for a new target or me. Looking around, I smiled spotting a hook on a heavy chain connected to another chain with a long electrical cord with a remote. I grabbed the control and climbed up the nearby chain. When I was up a feet, I tapped one of the direction buttons, raising the hook to the upper catwalks level and then tapped the control switch, activating the rails above, moving the hook.

The hook snagged the catwalk, tearing at the metal with an air splitting screech; I hung on for dear life to the remaining chain and grinned as the hook tor the railing away and smashed into the far wall, imbedding in the brick wall. The metal fell to the floor as I attempted to pull the hook back to me, which didn’t work at all. I sighed, letting the control drop down, I dropped down to a catwalk below, trying to keep as quiet as possible as I snuck towards the next catwalk above along a staircase. I was above the Mr. Handy when Vincent decided to talk again-

“Ambi, don’t do what I think you are going to do,” he advised, “That’s just crazy.”

My answer was jumping off the catwalk onto the Mr. Handy, “Death from above!” I screamed, grabbing the spindly arm the held the buzz-saw.

 _“Ambush! The Sun’s are attacking!”_ the Mr. Handy screamed as I straddled it, turning it’s saw on the Protectron that decided was a good time to raise its arms to shoot me.

The blades tore into the helpless robot; its tinny words turning into static nonsense as I destroyed what I hoped was where its cognitive functions were located, _“Trespassers will be shooowwwwwtttttttt-”_ was all the poor machine got to say before it fell to the floor in a heap, a resounding metal clang rung in the air as it exploded.

That was when the catwalk added a delightful sound of groaning metal under stress.

I knew the Mr. Handy had an advantage, meaning I had seconds to act.

I grunted, pushing the damaged arm down, hacking the buzz-saw into the floating orbs hover components, (Thankful that the Protectron had damaged the Mr. Handy and not me) and cried out in joy as it slumped to the lurching catwalk still spurting nonsense. This was short lived, as one end of the catwalk was starting to break apart where the hook tore through, I had leapt off the Mr. Handy before it fell, jumping back watching the end of the catwalk where the hook tore through and had started breaking apart. Panting as I ran, I went wide eyed as the catwalk section broke free, jutting down and taking me with me. Jumping at the last second, across the immense gap, the tip of my toe just missed the catwalks edge in front of me. Of course my toe touching the edge would not make a difference at all, just made me annoyed at the smidgen miss.

My body plunged down, air screaming from my lungs as I expected to have metal tear into my body or break my back on the ground or containers below as Vincent swore over the speakers then said something I didn’t hear as I thumped down and was swallowed by darkness. Audible clicks rang around me, I believe that the Radbeetles were going to kill me, maybe eat me alive as I lay unmoving and bleeding.

An ominous clicking repeated over and over in my ears, the Radbeetles were going to get me. I hoped to bleed out before they got to me. I closed my eyes as surprisingly strange warmth covered me. With restrained slowness, I reached out my hand to wherever Vincent was as a final action of acknowledgement in my brief time of the wastes. At least I helped someone in the wasteland and didn’t die on my first day.

I died on my second.

Death didn’t seem that bad. It was warm, comfortable even. However, I thought heaven was meant to smell good! It stank like rotted cow meat mixed with back-up toilet refuse. I took a breath, the smell choking me, I couldn’t move. Wherever I was, something kept sucking me backwards when I tried to move my legs down to push myself upwards. After a few seconds, I felt something tug at my fingers then grasp my hand firmly and yank me towards it.

I saw a light and cried out as a torch held between someone’s teeth, blinding my eyes. They spat the torch out onto the metal flooring next to them as I rubbed my eyes, they pulled me up onto the flooring gently. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked up and saw a smiling Vincent crouching next to me. “Are all people from your vault as crazy as you?” he whispered, worry in his eyes.

I coughed, looking over my shoulder to what I had fallen in. Before me there were several large containers, several were sealed shut and were where the Mr. Handy, Protectron and section of the catwalk had crashed down on top of, spilling the contents and crumpling the containers. Luckily the one I had been above had been open and saved me from breaking my body. Looking closer, I realized that I had fallen into a 200 hundred year old container of several-times spoiled wheat that stank rancid.

Vincent muttered something about getting me something to clean off or at least wipe off the muck away. By then I wasn’t paying attention. I watched him pick something off the floor that was wedged under the metal flooring I was on and watched him walk out of view until I heard the tell-tale sound of him walking further away into the dark.

Looking down at myself, I saw what he meant- I was covered in a slimy, mouldy decayed mess. I gagged and heaved, vomiting on the catwalk. As my dinner dripped down a small break in the metal, I started to cry in the dark.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Vincent asked me softly, from somewhere above me. “Is it the smell?”

I hadn’t even realized he had come back. I continued to cry as he gently pulled me up, cleaning my face with a cold, damp rag and helped me lose the cheap security barding and helmet- throwing them into the long-forgotten wheat containers. “That better?” he asked, giving me a hopeful smile, which I replied with more blubbering.

He sighed softly as he lead me back to the security station and sat me down in a chair in front of me. “Okay, why are you crying? Were you afraid of the robots?” I shook my head, “Of me not coming back?” I hadn’t even thought of that, I shook my head again. I raised my Pip-Boy, which I had thought to cover before I activated to hook- I showed Vincent the audio logs of Jack. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there crying about a long dead man; feeling completely drained over a man who had seen a good life then because of war lost everything.

I felt ashamed and gut-wrenched for being so petty. I envied him for being dead before the true horrors rose from the ashes of war. To know such horror from what people in his generation had caused because of pettiness and greed.

The red haired man let out a slow breath and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly. “Amb’s,” he held up several glass bottles, the Cat-eyes still active in my system, created soft glare from the light of his Pip-Boy against the bottles. He tapped his Pip-Boy, turning the light off. As the light died, he softly clinked the bottles together again and a small lying smile crossed my lips.

He held a trio of Roseman’s most famous drinks; Cherry, Lemonade and Club Nectar all flavoured delight in a bottle.

Still with the liars face, I took them and put them into my pack, “Thank you…” I whispered softly, not wanting him to understand what I truly wanted. I wanted Jack to have not lost his wife and son. I wanted so badly for a life of the past to be one without such pain, for the farmer to at least escape to a life with his family alive. Even only if that life was one in a vault.

To survive.

Sniffling, I stood shakily, vaguely nodding as Vincent told me had had taken care of the remaining Radbeetles, destroyed their nests and deactivated the exterior turrets while I had taken my time getting myself together. Those were not his exact words, in the context of my fragile outburst, it felt right to me. As he turned away from me, he hauled his pack onto his shoulders; I noticed there were no skeletons in the security station anymore. I looked around, not spotting any others around either. Did Vincent believe I was weak after my outburst?

How naïve I was to think that I could handle the wasteland, let alone handle a day without the broken skeletal remains of the long dead and forgotten before me. I trudged after him towards Groceries and Go, with my head down, a cold bundle curling in on itself in my chest. To grant some respite to our bodies and minds, if only so brief. It was then and there I pushed the idea in my mind that the wasteland would not take me. If only momentarily in grief or anger, it would never have me.

The smallest of smiles touched my lips.

I would not back down.

***        ***        ***

Once again, I had woken, just before dawn. The filtered light of poison eked down from a high smashed out window above me, the many dust motes dancing before my eyes. I sneezed; rubbing my eyes from the hours of sleep I had obtained between arriving at Groceries and Go and when I returned with Vincent from the Balthazar’s warehouse.

I had felt emotionally and physically drained, some might count getting drugged by Vincent as sleep. I knew that drugged unconsciousness was not sleep at all, just induced momentary peace. Most cases, unconsciousness never gave me peace, just nightmares and blinks between being awake, asleep and daylight.

My nightmares had been something mildly interesting, if not disturbing. I had laid awake listening to Lexie’s soft breathing above me, a reassuring noise in the dark, like the hum of the lowlighting at night back in the vault. That was all normal. I could close my eyes and pretend I was sleeping in my sister’s apartment after a night of chess and board games, so tired to move, only lucid enough to keep awake and listen to the soft reassurances of not being alone in the darkness of a vault.

The nightmares gave me images of Melody’s singing cresting and making my orifices bleed. My sisters and Gasper leaving me alone to drown in swaths of wasteland terror, blood spattered in droplets dripping off my face as I am overcome. Soft whispers of Jene, accusing me of failing my duties, my moral code. Nathan holding me, a gaping hole six-inches wide blasted into his chest, his eyes dead and cold as stone. Vincent smiling, letting my hand go as Raiders surrounded us.

In the end leaving me tied to a mannequin, the viscera and blood of the dead children around me falling onto my face as Radbeetles and Radroaches devoured me alive. The Overseer, a cold look with a satisfied grin, reminding me that all in the vault were disposable to serve the vault, that I was a ‘reject’ of genetics. I awoke in a mess, my mother looking at me in grief, whispering that she could not help me more than she could. That her choices for me were never hers to decide.

With a deep sigh I twitched, wiping back hair from my sweaty brow. Tilting my head, I heard two voices in the front room. Shifting in the bed, I moved onto my feet and tip-toed across the scratched, yet fairly weathered floor boards.

When are you moving on?” the familiar high baritone voice of Balthazar asked, to who I assumed would be Vincent; as the bed across from the bunk bed as void of him.

A shuffling of papers on the other side of the door, “Well soon enough. I have to get Lexie back home.” A sharp tapping followed with the sound of shifting footsteps. “Yes Lexie, you can say goodbye before we go, would be rude not to. Just have to get going before the sun is up or I’ll have to take the long way to Tan-Worth, through the Digger-Bolt Mine fields.”

“No one wants that Vincent, especially not me.” Balthazar sighed, “What about Ambi? What are her plans?”

I heard silence for a few moments, “I think she’s just a traveller, someone who doesn’t know where she’s going, nor where she truly knows where to be.” Vincent sighed deeply, “She talked in her sleep last night, missing some family.” Something in his voice echoed pain of his own past, of things I did not know, nor deserved the right to ask about.

Balthazar chuckle softly, “Something tells me you might know a thing or two about her family, am I right?”

I smiled. For a man of such a nervous demeanour, he sure knew what people meant and could perceive very discreet meanings in actions.

“Heard through Astral, some vault dwellers were seen near Gathering Water recently. I just want you to keep your feelers out for any information about them. That’s all.”

“Is that all? Or are you hoping she will follow you back home to Tan-Worth?”

Something- that sounded fleshy, slammed against the counter with a thump, “I am not letting her follow me Bal.” Vincent whispered through clenched teeth. By this time I had pushed the door open a crack.

I watched Balthazar flinch on instinct, his body steeling up as his posture screamed ‘I want to run!’ conflicting with his eyes, ‘Please, my dear friend, calm down.’ as Lexie raised his hands, rubbing the older male’s back- which was rippling with tense muscles and tendons. “No one is saying you are Vincent,” he whispered softly, his voice cracking, “I’ll keep tabs on information about the vault dwellers okay. You’ll know as soon as I get anything.”

Lexie smiled up at Vincent, he surprised the man by wrapping his arms around his middle and hugged him close. With a mega-watt smile he mouthed ‘Don’t be sad, you always have me and Bal looking out for you.’, as he beamed at him.

Vincent smiled and tussled the young boys hair, “What would I do without you or Bal?” he laughed lightly, as he leaned over the counter switching on a battered looking radio, tuning it to some God-awful tripe about pre-war petrol sales. “Bal, why do you keep it on the adverts broadcast? Most of it is from before the war- which you know by heart.” Vincent mumbled as he turned the knob on the radio’s top, going through streams of static until he came to what he was looking for. The older man laughed, putting down several coffee cups beside him, “I enjoy the current prices, so I can establish a market value.”

Lexie made a raspberry sound as he pulled himself up onto the counter and sat back with a broad smile.

Balthazar looked back at the boy and frowned, “Oh yes, I enjoy Astral too, I just believe that knowing economic balance is something worthwhile for society.”

Vincent moved to Lexie’s side and leaned back against the countertop, “Well, that is your opinion Bal. It’s as boring as hell though.” Balthazar threw up his hands and spoke something in a language I didn’t know, until Vincent told him to stop swearing in French and enjoy Astral’s station for once.

I didn’t have a few seconds to think, to decide whether or not it was time to join them before a sweet- a heavenly delicious voice filled the other room. A deep voice that was borderline addictive to hear, with a defined smooth sound that mirrored dark chocolate; being that may, any delectable chocolate that dare to be anywhere as rich was as chalky mud in comparison.

The voice didn’t even sound like anyone I had ever heard before. However, the accent felt somehow familiar.

“The faithful listeners of _‘Chandelier of Stars’_ airwaves, I bid you good morning at this early hour. I do apologise if my preaching’s arose you from slumber most divine.”

“Hm, seems they switched today.” Balthazar mumbled, as he turned towards the built-in sink, and went to work cleaning out the coffee cups.

“I do so with good reason,” Astral chuckled, “What would your radio be on for, if not to listen to me and mine? Today I bring morning news about the South-Wastes. It seems that the South-Waste has something to perk it up after the recent conflicts along the Blue Oil range.” the gorgeous baritone-bass voice of Astral mused, “Everyone knows of those damned hell-spawn Red Belly’s have been eating everyone out of house and home?”

“Yes, yes, literally.” Vincent sighed, shaking his shaggy hair.

“Well. Seems like some vaultie got it up in her head hat these hissers needed something to rattle their imperfect nests. Reports are that a young girl took out a raider bases on her own, and get this, rescued some children too. A class-act in anyone’s book.”

My eyebrow twitched. I hadn’t done that on my own, why wasn’t Vince mentioned? Why wasn’t the fact he killed them, that I hadn’t done anything at all mentioned? I sighed and grumbled as the broadcast continued.

“In other news, anyone tromping around gathering water, watch out for a small girl with a dingo hood or gold hair, because if you irk her, she will not hesitate in the slightest to kick you from here to Uluru. As or the vaultie, about time a ranger came down on this hell hole of the wastes. And I don’t mean the knowledge hoarding Southern Cross Rangers or the paranoid Obsidian Diggers; I am talking about the old stories of Kelly, the lone ranger long before the Great War. Good luck Ranger.”

“My eyes nearly balked out of their sockets; I wasn’t a ranger! What the honey-butt of Elizabeth’s exploding orgasms was a ranger?! I huffed and leant forward, placing my head on the aged doorframe.

“So, you’re up?” a cheery voice assaulted my ears. Looking up, I saw Vincent holding out a cup of something- coffee most likely and handed it to me. I took it with a smile and shrugged. “So, heard the end of Astral’s show?” I nodded and took a sip of the foul black liquid, tasted badly of burnt bread and chocolate mixed with gritty soup. The only plus was that it would wake me up. “Well, you’ll be thankful to know that wasn’t Astral.”

An eyebrow rose up, if that was not Astral, then who was he? “Who was that then?”

Balthazar stroked his stubble covered chin, “Astral does that show with a man named something incredibly pretentious. Infinite something.” He looked to Vincent, desiring his input, “Infinite Dream.”

The red haired man beside me shrugged, “Infinite Revansky?”

I was sure that wasn’t a word…

And I was sure they were pulling my metaphorical leg.

“No,” Bal raised a hand, his eyes shining with realization, “Infinite Fans!”

Lexie rolled his eyes, tugging on Vincent’s shirt. “Yes, we shouldn’t tease her,” he looked to me with a smile.

I blinked; “Tease me?” how were they teasing me?

Vincent smiled, waving his hand at me, “His name is a little pretentious, not to mention a bit odd. On the other hand, considering that I have met people called ‘Trash’ and ‘Bolt-Cutter’ which are some of the more raider-slash-bandit sheik in the wastes.”

Balthazar nodded in agreement, “Yes, I concur. When in comparison with names like ‘Pipington Fair’ and ‘Judgement’ Aegis Eyrie is not that bad.”

 _What?_ His name was Aegis… Aegis Eyrie???

I hung my head with a grin, “So high above a shield? I would think, ‘High above where I speak truth with lies mixed in.’ would be a more adequate summary of him.”   Of course I felt partially annoyed with someone having a name so bizarrely arrogant. Then again, my own mother had given me a name that was insane as a talking dog solving mysteries. …And a little bit sad about being so quick to doubt a well-known voice in the wastes. Implying my own, misguided thoughts, without understanding it all I can before daring to judge. ‘Judge not lest ye be judged.’ as my dear Belle would quote to me on occasion. She had always enjoyed religious services, always attending the vault Preacher’s sermons, investigating various religious ceremonies and traditions.

Clarisse differed from her older twin, referring to stick to her security practices, combat examples, designated patrols and her vast, yet odd knowledge of medical procedures. She always had an uncanny eye for medical issues that surfaced in the vault, frankly I found her freaky perception at a glance somewhat creepy.

With a sigh, I turned to Vincent with a smile, “Don’t start calling me ranger.” I turned to Lexie, giving the adorable youth my best stare of doom. “And no, even you cannot.” He gave me a pout, “Nope. Not happening.”

He continued to stare, pouting, his lower lip trembling.

Sweat trickled down my temple, his piteous big green eyes staring at me- oh God; make the adorable doe-eyed boy stop! Candy, mother, God! Whatever you want, stop looking at me like that! I blushed and took the aboriginal child in my arms and hugged him close.

Balthazar and Vincent chuckled; they dared to laugh at the power of this child? A child with cuteness that could be a weapon if turned evil? “No one can resist the Lexie stare.”

Lexie leaned his head up and smiled, flashing surprisingly white teeth at me, “Yes, he is something else.” I smiled and closed my eyes, momentarily forgetting the world around me.

Maybe being Ranger would be okay.

“Oh!” Balthazar exclaimed from behind his counter, lightly smacking his forehead. “I thanked Vincent for your services, for the life of me I could not just let you wander out of here without something as thanks.” I watched the near middle-aged man rummage through boxes upon boxes until he pulled out a small locked metal crate roughly double the size of a lunchbox and a rolled up scroll of blue and white paper.

He handed me the paper scroll as he propped the peeling crate on the counter, uncurling the scroll, I saw that it was a schematic how to make something called a ‘Net launcher’. I rolled it back into a roll with a grin. I had all the pieces to assemble the Net-Gun, or I recognised that many of pieces could be found easily or bought. I even had a nifty utility belt for tools I wanted on hand, even if the utility belt didn’t come with a complete tool kit. Mine only possessed two kinds of screw-drivers and a hammer.

Vincent had advised me to find some in my spare time, which would be good for crafting this funny after war oddity. Oddly, my spare time would be surrounded my people trying to either kill me or nightmares. I was lucky the Balthazar had some belts to sell me in the first place. Well, that would be lying, I didn’t buy one per say. I wanted to buy one, he wouldn’t have it, he insisted on giving me all the components for free. I snuck caps into his fridge in the backroom as compensation, next time he wanted a Beer or Rosemans he’d find them.

I wasn’t one for not paying my debts when due.

Tilting my head, I yawned, rubbing the sleep out of y eyes and continued to watch Balthazar; he was fiddling with a key from an old chain her wore around his neck. He opened the box and rummaged inside, gingerly moving aside several small figurines of Vault boy; each had a wide grin and were crafted in a unique way.

“What’s with the collection?” I asked, genuinely curious as he pulled nearly out two dozen of the smiling mascots. They were kind of creepy… like they were on Cloud Nines or some other kind of happy pill.

The merchant smiled as he moved several more aside, “They were a limited release in America before the war. My family has always taken to collecting them. A few were released strictly in Australia after the formation of the Australian Vault-Tec branch.” He continued as he started pulling out small bags that jingled when moved, “As far as I know, there were only sets given to the four company heads of the Australian branch.”

Vincent tapped the countertop beside him, “Hmmm, I know one of the heads was related to one of the Bureau leaders.”

Balthazar nodded as he pulled out several small bags of caps, each numbering from 25 caps up to 100 cap bundles; he slid over the payment of the weapons, junk we sold him the previous day and an amount he generously paid for the Radbeetle removal- which was about 963 caps. After dividing the caps among ourselves, I noticed Lexie playing with some cps on an old checker board.

I put my caps away, “Heading out soon?” I asked the red haired man beside me softly.

He nodded, “As soon as we are done here, I think Bal wants you to stick around for a little while.” Vincent smiled, he gave my shoulder a friendly pat and strolled out of the store with Lexie at his side.

I hoped then and there that I would someday see both of them again.

I looked to Balthazar, who was grinning with a smile that reached just below his eyes. In his hands he held out a bundle of red cloth, which he handed it to me gingerly. I held the swath of crushed velvet in my hands, blinking at the soft texture and lowered the bundle gently onto the countertop and unfolded the fabric. The fabric slid away with ease, like water over metal, revealing a figurine of a man with startling red- almost ruby hair and an easy going smile accompanied by a delightful butterfly-sized bird perched on his raised hand.

Quite unlike the cartoon depiction of the Vault-Tec male mascot, this one was lifelike, as if it was waiting to move around before me and explore the world. Oddly, it seemed more alive, equal to the man before me. Looking up from the soft determined smile of the figurine, I looked at Balthazar my face gouged into a frown. “Who is this?”

He smiled, and turned the statue around for me to see; on the base like the Vault-Tec bobbly heads, this little figurine had some sort of engraved message too. _‘Never give up.’_ I glanced at the detailed, almost animated face of the statue, his intelligent soft brown eyes daring me to challenge him, to get in his way and dare stop him from being himself. I poked his hair, his cool, styled hair.

It was as if he was gifted with the natural flip look of tussled hair by a light breeze of non-existent wind.

I looked back up at the eager trader before me, waiting for my reply. “Why are you giving this to me?” I was taken aback, and surprised when the old man gently cupped his hand over my own. A dull ache burned into me, a yearning for a lost figure in my life. Of someone important, a memory of feint loss and disgust filled me.

Balthazar gingerly held the figurine in his other hand, “This figure will remind you, remind you never to stop believing in yourself, of the good you do, that not every fight is one with brute strength. Words were more of a weapon in most situations.” He smiled and let my hand free and swathed the figurine back into the cloth, then careful handed me the red bundle.

With a shy smile, I nodded and walked over to the backroom to place the figurine securely into my pack, which was resting on my temporary bunk with the duffel bag of Jack’s bones. Standing over my pack, I realised that the possession of this statue- this figurine of oddity, made me feel happy. Happy and full of energy to help others and take on my troubles with my head held high, with confidence in my heart and new words of reassurance in my head.

My smile broadened as I snapped my pack shut, I hoped badly that I could be just as confident and stalwart as the Caucasian ruby haired mystery figure. It wasn’t that I needed more trouble; it was that I needed to be able to handle what I could with confidence. To be assertive in myself, self-assurance in my linguistic prowess and be able to stand alone of need be.

Unsure of my future, I assembled the Net-Gun, with help from a certain man obsessed with Radbeetles. In short, the Steam-gauge fused with wonder glue to a small welded cooking pot, tubes and a shocking twist of my own idea- dismantled EMP bullets and grenades. Balthazar was thrilled at my ingenuity, and was going to make his own and adapt it to trap above his door in case he got attacked by Raiders, Radbeetles, by any other kind of insect or arachnid in the future.

After pondering the bonus of a unique weapon, I decided that the disadvantage of the Net-Gun was my inability to assemble the nets on my own. What little repair skill I had, I could attempt to make badly woven nets in the one’s I possessed got damaged. However, I knew my skill with electronics was heavily lacking, thus my skill with EMP grenades or anything with higher technical science involved was not good at all. Truthfully, I could perform basic maintenance of a Pip-Boy, cleaning and minor repair for the screen, the only thing I had repaired properly was a lamp souvenir from a place called Inverell and a toaster.

The strange thing was that the toaster had been left in an old maintenance closet on level Maintenance level-C, the toaster had a mouldy toast shoved in it and the words ‘Would you like some toast?!’ scratched on its outer casing. Someone must have really hated toast or something, maybe they were a waffle person. Once I took it apart I found some pre-war money, a small data recorder, bobby pins and three Stim-pacs in the crumb tray. Why anyone would hide something valuable in a toaster was beyond me, however everyone called me ‘Toaster repair girl’ for the longest time.

I sighed; maybe I could enlist someone to help my later with this problem, barter for services of something.

Old chains with weighed ends would work just as well, even insulation cord or piano wire would work and cause greater damage. It would be smart to change ammo type, to conserve what little I did have. With a half-hearted sigh, I pulled my pack onto my shoulder, adjusting it between my shoulder blades. Satisfied with the weight, I picked up the moth-eaten military duffel bag and walked back into the front room, stopping at the counters.

“Goodbye for now Balthazar.” I beamed, my less than clean hair bouncing on my shoulders.

The curious near middle-aged man smiled, tipping his odd hat as I wandered out the door and back into the South-Wastes, not knowing what I would take on next.

 

 

* * *

_Footnote: Level up!_

_**New perk:** Run and gun - When shooting at a moving target, your accuracy has improved._

_**Unique Items Obtained:** Figurine collected, +1 to Charisma skill._


	6. Chapter Four: Innocent Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambs leaves the company of Vincent in search of her sister's and Gasper, following what little information she has. In her search, she scouts a pre-war military recruitment centre and gets more than she bargains for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half chapter the whole would have been 33 pages.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter Four:** Innocent eyes

_“Be careful where you poke around, some folk don’t take a Vaulters word of kindness to heart.”_

  

Sunlight on water.

Something I had never seen until yesterday. I thought it was amazing at the time.

Even if the water was muddy and full of creepy little fish or insect-like creatures. Fish-bug kind of rolled off the tongue, with an odd reasoning behind it. With a sigh, my eyes darted to the filtered sunlight that danced across the murky ponds of water that were dotted around the overgrown field I walked beside. The field had once been a sporting oval, a meeting place for hobby enthusiasts, pre-war and other health-related activities of the more active people of society.

Craning my head to the North by North-East, I spotted a water-tower.

Painted in an ugly faded light bluish green, not unlike the colour that Mr. Handy’s were coated in, still standing the test of time. Surrounded by cracked asphalt and overgrown weeds, it barely looked time-ravaged at all. Although long ago, someone had the idea to paint a huge rude gesture on one side of the water-tower, I was unsure whether the gesture was to life, the war, he towns populace who lived opposite the tower the south. Maybe it was to the sewage plant near the oval’s western edge.

With a sigh, I considered wandering into the overgrown dead grass, amazed it was even existent at all, and walked towards two buildings near the water-tower, hoping for some pre-war food. I was unsure whether or not I was getting addicted to the taste of Talloona snack cakes; they tasted awesomely wonderful with an Atomic Cola.

As it was, I had been travelling for about two hours, most of which was spent navigating around destroyed houses, wreckage stoked streets and stomping Radbeetles and Radroaches when they got too close. By my vague and pitiful math skills, I calculated that the meat and Radbeetle shells I got from the remains could be sold for repair costs to my flimsy knife when I came across a trader or someone who could repair my weapon or supply me with a stone.

Minutes after walking by the western edge of the oval, I had to adjust my direction of walking, noticing that I was starting to head in a southern direction. It was the roads fault… it was the most stable surface around to follow. With all the cars and smouldered dead grass lawns of the many wrecked buildings that lined the cracked and crumbling streets, I was beginning to feel that being alone in the wasteland was my inevitable result. After being in a group for a little while, okay a day at most. It had made me realize that I needed something, if anything to keep my mind at an adequate working state to watch my back.

My mind wandered from topic to topic, inevitably trying to distract me from everything around me; how my sisters were, if Nathan had finally beaten Jene at chess. Whether she had confessed her love for pre-war blues, she could never hear beyond snippets in pre-war movies and educational documentaries in class. If I recalled correctly, her favourite song was an old Jazz song made over a hundred years before the Great War’s beginning.

I sighed, hoping my family and friends were well, knowing that I may never see them again. I had little to no chance to find my sister’s and Gasper at all. Closing my eyes, I sighed deeper.

Life was hard.

I didn’t like thinking about it. It made my heart ache and my guts squirm.

A green bar drifted across my vision. Looking above me, not focussing on the sky, thank God, I saw the black and white shape of a Magpie flitting across the sky. A smile crept along my face; at least there were animals that didn’t mutate from the world humans screwed over. With a renewed moment of smiles and a good thought, I made my way past many collapsed houses; I walked towards a moderately intact two storey building inside a small compound.

Intact being generous or used in a sarcastic term; seeing as the rusted front gate had been motorized rollers, was dented heavily in several places and had the unfortunate luck of being jammed by a stripped down and severely weatherworn army jeep. I wondered if the jeep had any parts left I could salvage or better yet, any food stuff of the edible not rotted kind.

As any explorer, or curious green-horn-adventurer, I was interested in the building, however it was not what had caught my eye first. Outside was a bus station, with a relatively intact black and gold Roseman’s vending machine- which was nestled between the bus station and a concrete wall. I walked over, putting the right number of coins in, which took minor effort even with the representations for the prices of the drinks from pre-war times faded from the machines display. My eyes closed as I smiled when I heard a satisfying clunk of a glass bottle full of lime green goodness fell to the bottom. I sat on the bench, drinking the warm Roseman’s Green soft-drink, looking up at the bus stations rusted ceiling above me.

Downing the lukewarm near flat liquid I pulled myself up from the bench, deciding to delay my current self-quest and explore the building within the compound. As I was well aware that random exploration might be my undoing, I investigated my F.O.F on my HUD, looking around seeing only one immediate threat on the other side of the rusted green gate.

Slipping between the gate and the wall, I hummed softly looking around.

There was a small building with two doors, each bearing the faded signs of being male and female. Across the yard directly to the right of the broken gate was a garage that looked big enough to hold at least six jeeps with some room to spare. Between these two smaller buildings was a fairly stable looking structure two stories high with a large partially rusted dish of some kind propped on the top.

I had expected the compound to be cemented, all the ground covered in gray pock marked slabs. I was pleasantly surprised that it was covered in grass, albeit dead grass. My Pip-Boy beeped as my HUD flashed an icon, discovery of a ‘new’ location. Glancing down at map screen, a marker flashed up, zoomed in and displayed a small scroll of script, ‘Recruitment Centre 2400’.

Making my way across to the garage, hoping to find any spare mechanical thing-a-ma-bobs or useful what-it’s to nab, I stopped as I entered through the side door to the garage and turned around to shut the door. Beside the door frame, there was a surprisingly intact mounted frame. I blinked, pushing my goggles up onto my brow.

Inside the frame was a poster of a man with a very serious look.

He was handsome of a sort, a rough and tumble man I knew 100 percent that Clarisse would like to go toe-to-toe with, in hand-to-hand training or otherwise. He had a stern look, with a hint of pride and stature in his position. I would guess that he was in his late-thirties, or at least by appearance at a glance with the hinting of salt and pepper hair.

Oddly I felt as if he was judging me, from time and space, this man of eras past was watching me and knew I was trespassing in a military compound. Damn his piercing eyes of fathomless brown, the irksome deepest of any black upon a deadened night. They were just, …creepy.

From what I remembered from history books, I recognized his camo green army fatigues and insignia of military designation. Thanking the fact I paid attention in historical studies, I knew exactly what this poster was a part of; Bureau of Offensive Weapons Systems. Glancing below the blunt bold words plastered above and below the flagrant nationalistic image; ‘THE SUN SHALL SET, FIGHT FOR FREEDOM AND ENLIST TODAY!’.

However, I wasn’t interest in propaganda given to me by a devilish man.

I was interested in my hunch.

Below the stark battlefield of camo greens and warfare of the military background, minute writing that would have faded in normal seasonal conditions outside the garage had been spared. Thus sparing me from straining my already ‘fragile to the outside vault life’ eyes.

“…a promotion from the Bureau of Offensive Weapon Systems printed by the Bureau of Public Affairs and co-designed by the Bureau of Internal Affairs.” I shook my head, pulling my goggles down as I leant back on one of my legs. “Aren’t most weapons offensive in nature?” I muttered aloud, wondering why in the world ‘Offensive’ had to be tacked on at all.

Blatantly ridiculous.

Taking my time, I rummaged through the garage, taking anything that looked important enough to use later; a less ratty _‘701 things to repair with Wonderglue’_ magazine, tools, scrap and tubes of Wonderglue. Even if I didn’t know half the proper names of the tools I picked up, at least I knew I had some to use when I had to fix something again. Even if my repair skills were less than adequate, I liked the idea of having a tool kit on hand for an emergency; otherwise, I just gained a heavy object to throw at someone.

This tactic had worked in my favour in the past.

Tucking several tolls into my belt, I strapped the kit onto the top of my pack and heaved it up onto my shoulders. Sure that I hadn’t missed anything I could recognise as useful of that wasn’t bolted down, I left the garage and walked across the scraggly grass up onto the cemented walkway between all three buildings. Checking my Pip-Boy, there was no sign of the previous yellow marker anywhere around me, with a shrug I entered the toilet block.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that it had running water.

I wasn’t taking any chances in any case, as any water could be radioactive and I was sure that no one would lead-line pipes to an outside bathroom. Sure enough, as I passed my Pip-Boy over a small dribble of running water, it clicked a warming of radiation. I sighed. Of course no one would dream of leaving a nonradioactive source out for someone to control or steal from. Yet, since I had my faithful CWC canteens, one which was still three-quarters full I would be fine as long as they didn’t break or get a bullet through them. Taking a pull from one of my canteens in one hand, I shoved the other two under the running water.

Looking around the rest of the bathroom, the only thing of interest was a mounted medical kit on the wall. Considering that the water was purification on such a small scale in quantity, it would take an hour to purify; using a few of those minutes to mess with a medical box wasn’t a bad idea. Walking over, I looked over the battered white box, examining the symbol on the front; four red teardrop shapes pointing out from a dot in the centre, all teardrops connected by a discontinuing ring that overall the icon mimicked the shape of flower petals.

To my eyes, the teardrop pattern was not unlike the old style of the medical cross.

Maybe the spread out teardrops meant outreaching of healing? Or the soothing effect of medicines. Rummaging through my hair, I smiled; drawing out a bobby pin and knelt down, slipping my pack off to the ground. I pulled out the magazine I didn’t get around to reading yesterday; _‘Cracker’s hearing’_ and started to work.

After a few minutes of patience and a broken bobby pin, I bit the tip of my tongue and frowned. Just a bit more… I tapped the pin, feeling the inside of the lock, something hard, twisted the screwdriver annnnnd…

‘SNAP’

In disgust, I threw the broken bobby pin to the floor then glared at the faded white box. “I wouldn’t taunt you like this!” I muttered spitefully as I leered at it, inserting another bobby pin. I had an ample supply, more than plenty, I was being childish. Out of sheer annoyance, I nudged it again with my hand and felt myself slip on several broken tiles. Easily, I moved landing back on my feet as I tumbled backwards from a cart-wheel, my foot kicking the medical box into the air.

It flew upwards off its bearings and landed square on my head.

I heard a crack, and thought for sure that I had broken my skull. Going to my knees, I probed the top of my head, feeling but a bump starting to form. A sigh left my lips, not sure what had happened. Looking over at the medical box, I realized one of two things; firstly the medical boxes were sturdy and I wondered if they would work as protection- by inserting in my vault suit as plates.

Secondly, I was happy to see that the box was now open, revealing it’s near two century old goodies. Squealing with childish glamour, I leaned down to gather up all my new loot. The price of getting whammed on the head proved fruitful, as I had gained three bobby pins, a couple of Stimpacks, a dose of RadAway, and several syringes of Med-X and a bottle of Cat-eye.

As I capped my canteens and returned them to their proper places, something rustled behind me. I rolled forward into a toilet stall and braced against it, waiting for a tell-tale sound of a weapon cocking or footsteps. For the moments I waited, nothing moving, my ears straining to hear a pin drop. I waited for a few more seconds and drew out a small mirror I kept among my supplies and angled it into the bathroom under the stall wall.

I saw something that pained me.

On the other side of the door was a very disturbing robot. Not a bipedal shaped like a Protectron, nor a deranged orb like a Mr. Handy. Its cylindrical shape was taller than average human height, and easily dominated my shrimpy-ness. However I deducted that was from being mounted on a set of treaded caterpillar-wheels, the kinds that were used for construction sites. It turned, letting out a small eep. I realized then and there that it was wise to be afraid or at least disturbed by this particular robot design.

Not only did each long robotic arm ended in a claw that looked strong enough to clamp on my throat and strangle the life out of me. Nor what seemed to be small, odd looking guns mounted on its shoulders. It was the fact that right where its robotic braincase of circuits and motherboards was supposed to be was a squishy pulpy organ- a brain.

“Come out darling, we only want to murder you~” the robot crooned softly, in an artificial imitation of a gorgeous female fatale. Its treads whirred as it moved forward, scanning for movement about the room, “Please darling come outside- _#error#_ ” the mounted robot trembled, its voice distorting to a default robotic voice that most people expected a robot to sound like, _“E-engaging origin of donated biological cerebral circuit. Loading, please wait---#”_ I watched the mounted clawed robot as it rolled around the bathroom, wondering what on earth its ‘donated’ brain was from. I knew I had average intelligence; my guess was that it would be an animal of a different species, a monkey, or a cloned brain perhaps.

A beep came from the robot, “ _#Loading complete, activate vocalization,#_ ” the robot whirred and twisted its head around scanning the area, facing the toilet block doorway, “Hmmm, nobody here!”

I blanched, starting to tremble as my inside turned to ice.

That was a child’s voice… some sick bastard put a child’s brain in a robot built to kill for some ungodly reason. A god-damn robot! Who does that, who in their right mind did something so abhorrent and evil?! I gritted my teeth, trying to block out the happy calls of the monstrosity sharing the room with me.

“Hello? Why are you hiding? I want to play!” the mounted robot cried gleefully in its tinny voice.

I shook in the toilet stall, trying my best not to hit the sides or give myself away. I was morally outraged, angered on many levels that there was a weaponised dead child, obliviously some twisted project from the war for the military or some moronic security ploy. I didn’t possess the skill to do something to help- what could I do to save a twisted brain? Something constructed and warped by technology; I didn’t understand science well enough and had no idea who could. A thought crossed my mind at that point, if I, someone who had been in the wasteland for less than forty-eight hours was trying to save something like this, why hadn’t someone with the capabilities had in the hundred and ninety-nine years since the wars end and the beginning of the end of the world?

Were people rally that callous? Had this been a mishap or lost? I shook my head banishing those thoughts; maybe no one in the wasteland had the proper skills to help a case like this. As tragic and heartbreaking as it was, there was nothing I could do to help it. Activating my Pip-Boy, going into the given time delayed state of V.A.T.S; I learned what the robot was. Of all things, it was called a Robobrain. I mean _really_? I could have thought of something more science inspired; Cerebral Droid or Mr. Cortex battle bot on wheels, considering that it definitely looked like a military weapon and not a security robot for small businesses like a Protectotron.

Hopefully the Robobrain wouldn’t think to look up.

I pulled myself up onto the toilet lid, gripping a pipe overhead as I pushed the remains of the broken window outwards. I heard a thump outside, the frame hitting the dirt below, holding my breath as I looked over my shoulder. The robot was staring, studying or whatever it was doing while it looked at the lone trash can in the room. I sighed softly, stepping on the lid, throwing my backpack and duffel bag out before I dived out the tiny window onto the dead grass and into a roll. Coming to a controlled stop I heard the lone Robobrain rant with child-like lines and pre-war slogans for toys. Standing, I realized one of two things. The first was that I had never been more disturbed in my life; the second was that my kidneys were announcing a protest in my sides to relieve myself.

As exciting as it was to wet myself, I decided that I should continue my self-imposed quest and left the toilet block and headed towards the centre building along the cracked cement path in hope of getting cover and finding a private toilet without homicidal child-voiced robots. Humming a soft tune to distract myself, I bounced up onto the steps across the threshold, oddly the back of my neck started to itch as I reached for the handle. I stopped, as something made a sound on the other side of the door. Instinctively I dodged away from the door across the veranda decking into a roll.

Behind me, the door was blasted outwards as a trio of bright red lasers erupted from several points in the door, followed by a familiar clunk-clunk sound of a Protectotron walking out of the doorway. Already crouching, I brought my pistol to bear bad lined up V.A.T.S targeting the Protectotron combat sensor. The first shot dinged of the casing; the second dented it, causing the Protectotron to stumble, if that was possible for a robot to do.

Dodging behind the veranda out of the robot’s field of view, I watched my F.o.F for further movement or added movement of reinforcements. Taking a breath, I edged around the veranda’s corner- the Protectotron was right there! Before its pre-recorded message of trespassing came to light, I shot it point-blank in what I estimated was its central processor or ‘braincase’ I sparked and sputtered, stopping in its tracks it made an error sound anyone could recognize and collapsed in a heap in front of me.

With a smile, I leant down and wondered if Protectotron’s had anything good in them, as Vincent had been the one to remove the components from the six robots I fought yesterday; probably electrical components and maybe energy cells. After removing the front dented and weather worn access panel of metal with my screwdriver, I was permitted ten energy cells; some more scrap metal and a fission battery. The rest of the robot was too complicated for me to fiddle with, and I wasn’t going to lug the robot around for sheer profit.

I stepped over the crumpled robotic mass, pushing the remains of the broken door out of the way an entered the recruitment facility, certain that there were going to be more Protectotrons inside. Even with the front door being broken open, with light streaming into the greeting room, I could see that the natural light did not penetrate beyond three feet at this time of day. Due to this, vast amounts of the greeting room in inky blackness, pocketed with shafts of light from overhead skylights in the ceiling reflecting light from mounted mirrors in the rooms’ corners near the ceiling.

As I explored the foyer, picking through the desk and drawers I was on guard, just waiting for something to attack me. My patience and alert state was rewarded when I heard the clunk-clunk of several Protectotrons roaming around the hallway which extended from the greeting room that broke off to the right. Cautiously, I peeked around the hallway’s corner, and sure enough there were four of them loitering around, forever set on a patrol route.

Checking my pistol, I peeked out again and saw one of the robots had walked into one of the rooms at the end of the hallway, while the other Protectotrons was still loitering and clunking about- they were facing the other way. I took my chance and snuck up behind them, entering V.A.T.S, and in my accelerated state I blew off one of the Protectotron’s head and damaged the second one’s I.F.F circuit.

Meaning I had to leg it.

I snuck back down the hall, my back pressed against the corner facing into the greeting room. Soon I heard the shots and automated tinny reply, warning of trespassing as the damaged Protectotron attack the remaining two; it successfully took one down and severally damaged the other as it wandered in from the room. I ventured back and blasted them both to scrap. Looking around at the smouldering heaps of metal, I took some more mechanical varieties as I went through the two rooms.

One was a reasonably furnished cafeteria and staff room, with three helpings of pre-war ready-to-eat frozen burgers and two bottles of purified water. The other room a few steps away was a fairly sized locker room connected to a looted armoury.

Checking my Pip-Boy for potential enemies, there were none for the moment. I sat on a bench before the lockers, chewing on an old Taloona snack cake I had found under the bench. Most of the lockers were easily opened with a lock pick; however, three were only able to be opened with a key. As I lacked neither the skill to pick a lock open nor he physical strength to jimmy it open with a crowbar. With a sigh, I looked through the terminal in the armoury; finding a list of ‘active soldiers’, armoury weaponry manifest, Officer’s on duty and the current public announcement to all personnel that there was to be a private visit of several influential person’s roughly dated six months before the wars end.

This information was interesting if I cared that deeply for every minute detail in history, had not been at all helpful to find the keys or passcode to any of the lockers. I knew some locks; namely electronic locks had bypass codes, even a genetic sampler; an unfortunate option in case of death, a faulty or drunken memory or in case of an emergency.

I looked over the list of names on the roster, some seemed familiar, a feint murmur in my memory, For the life of me I just couldn’t remember where I knew them from.

Luckily, I found the key taped under the desk. I was pleasantly surprised when I had been looking for spare caps on the floor. With a slight grin, I unlocked the remaining lockers in the armoury. Unluckily all these lockers contained unarmed combat and bullet magazines, a nifty pair of funny looking goggles and a few generic military weapons- all but the weapon were thrown into my pack. The weapons were lashed together with some old leather belts from one of the lockers, and tied to my duffle bag next to the tool bundle, which when I had the time I would strip down into better quality weapons later.

Taking care as I fought my way through the ground floor, using the building against the robots, I found the simplest way to distract one was to throw something away from me and move while the Protectotron investigated the movement or noise; which gave me time to sneak past. That or sneak up and shoot one in the back of the ‘head’.

By the time I reached a stairwell to the floor above, I had collected and abundance of energy cells, which was marked at a fair price by my Pip-Boy. At least that is what my Pip-Boy told me, confusing machine. I had been careful, avoiding any unnecessary blunders and found a locked medical box, ammo for my shotgun, .357 rifle rounds, 10 mil rounds and a generous amount of flimsy pre-war money. Tapping my cheek, I realized that I hadn’t checked my food supple after Vincent and I rescued the children back at the macabre pre-school.

After scouring the floor a second time, for any Protectotrons I missed and found nothing else of significant value I looked for a place to rest for a moment. Finding a ‘safe’ place, I sat at a desk in one of the many small offices that lined the first storey and started checking my supplies. I sighed. I had several bottles of Rosemans drinks, two Taloona snack cakes, a can of Butterscotch candies and one tine of Irish stew. I was surprised to find a book that wasn’t mine long with a small but warm oval shaped object the size of my fist wrapped in grubby paper nestled gingerly in one of the larger pockets of my pack. Opening the package, a warm nutty scent infiltrated my nose, making my mouth water; looking at the inside of the grubby paper I saw a small scribbled note written in a neat no frills script.

 _“Balthazar helped me make this for you. I know it isn’t much, I hope you like it Ambi. Hope to see you again one day!”_ I read aloud in a hushed tone. I blinked then smiled, “Lexie, you’re such a kind boy.”

Re-wrapping the baked good, I placed it back into my pack next to my canteen. I had no desire to waste water, with the advantage of my CWC, I could sell or trade the purified water from the cafeteria. I stretched out my legs on the desk and pulled out the thick tome labelled _‘Facets of Science!’_. Flipping open the cover, I smiled at the cartoon image of a man with sparkling green eyes that reeked of intelligence below a mop of gingery-blonde hair.

A smile crossed my lips, I definitely sure that the military would not have liked me resting my dirty boots all over their desk. If there was a military left at all.

Looking at the office around me, I leaned back in the chair and played with the sorrowful looking painting of somewhere called ‘Cairns’ on the wall. I soon realized that there were things to discover, if I only paid attention a bit more I would have noticed sooner. There was a hole in the painting, a bit of steel gray peeking through; it could have been a beam in the wall, if my hunch was right. I lifted the painting off the wall and smiled as I placed the painting on the floor against the wall.

Behind the painting of a beach inlet there was a safe, I was unsure whether or not I could crack it, so I looked to the terminal on the desk. Accessing it with my Pip-Boy, I found the password was ‘star’ and a secondary password was ‘lose’. Opening the files, I skimmed along and found nothing important, mostly drills, recruit dossiers and notes; then I came across an access command to open the safe behind me. Clicking the safe open, I stepped back, logging off the computer and dug through the safe contents.

Most of the papers in the safe had degraded from time, so had the half-opened butterscotch candies. I felt sad for the uneaten candy.

Interestingly, I found photos protected in a special air-tight bag alongside a small black box the size of my palm. Sitting back down, I opened the bag, pulling out several aged ‘new’ fangled colour Polaroid snap-shots of the pre-war era.

The first was of a young sandy blonde haired boy clinging to an older raven haired girl, barely a few years older that the boy. Both had the same look in their eyes that seemed to follow me as I looked at the collapsed structure behind them. Below them, I saw the photo was labelled, **Tragedy of the Munro philanthropist household** , scribbled in a child-like scrawl, _‘The day we met Professor Kelle’_.

Shuffling to the next photo, I saw the boy and girl again. The girl was in her teens, she was ruffling the pre-pubescent boy’s shinning locks as he hugged her. On his other side, there was an aboriginal boy with a mess of freckles to go along with his buzz cut, lightly punching the arm of an aboriginal girl with inky-black hair. They were all grinning in some way. Two adults; the man from the Bureau of Offensive Weapons poster, in army fatigues, his dark brown fathomless eyes looked over their shoulder with a determined look. Beside him; a woman in a lab coat stood at his side with a pallor smile, her dark rich chocolate hair plaited in a long trail behind her, contrasted nicely with her ochre skin. Glancing down, I saw this photo had a label too, _‘The beginning of our new ‘life’_.’

Oddly ominous to me.

The final photo showed most of the group in the second photo, including several young men and a girl had joined them, posing under a sign on the outskirts of a small town, ‘Moree, Welcome to the Heartland of the north-west slopes and plains’. I looked at the new couple to the right of the sign, a normal everyday looking caramel haired young man with glasses. My eyes went to the dark skinned girl, I held back a giggle. She did not look pleased with her uniform, especially with her half cut buzz-cut. To the far right was a young woman with a stoic smile, her bright eyes hidden behind an even sheet of golden hair as two lanky young men, virtually opposite in appearance both smiled widely at the camera on either side of her.

I looked below and frowned, there was title or description.

I flipped it over.

There were two lines; the first had been crossed out, the passage of time wearing away the feint writing. Squinting, I could just make out what was written, _“Kings Command, our first time together. We prefer to call ourselves ‘Moon’s Eclipse; Last day you see the sun’.”_

I didn’t understand the joke, maybe I was missing something.

Looking down at the next line, I frowned.

_“The first time we became a team, the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. How did it all go so very wrong?”_

What went wrong? What happened to this unit? Did one of them die? Get injured? Was one of them a traitor to the Japanese? Questions boggled my mind, their faces were familiar from school yet their names were lost to my stupid brain. Especially that name Munro, it stood out like a blue Vault-Tec jumpsuit in the brown of the wasteland. Thoughts niggled at my brain, I felt compelled to know what their fates were, and perhaps curiosity was my weakness. Biting my lower lip, I let out a deep sigh I holding and put the photos back into the bag to reseal it and placed it in my pack.

After copying them onto my Pip-Boy first.

Placing the black box onto the table, I touched the lid, expecting there to be a lock or clasp. I found nothing but the smooth cold surface. A small bloom of heat moved against my fingertip, a moment later the box opened and revealed a tiny disc inside- roughly the circumference of a medium sized marble inside shaped padding. To my eyes, the disc looked to be made of something like glass and technical micro science combined. Small wires, or what seemed to be wires, coiled in patterns on the disc in a circuit board fashion. Set around the disc in a similar shaped indent was a disassembled headset. It appeared to be an ear bloom for a Pip-Boy- maybe it was designed to fit over my ear or was compatible with Pip-Boy technology.

Shrugging, I pocketed the case. I stood up, closing the safe and made my way up the flight of stairs. When I came onto the landing above, I was surprised by the sight of broken apart Protectotrons. Silently, I crouched beside the broken robots and ran a finer over the casings. No dust or grime, meaning someone was either in the building a day or so ago and taken the obnoxious robots out.

Either that, or someone was in here with me.

Trying to be stealthy, in case there was an unknown enemy or potential ally in the upper level, I had just turned the corner halfway up the stairs when another Protectotron decided to give me a new hairstyle. Ducking to the right, the red laser sheared past my face, burning it and singing the tip of one of my bangs. I grunted and shot the robot in the chest, the first shot made it stumble. I dodged around it up the stairs, gaining the higher ground and pulled the trigger- the robot’s head started to smoke as the air was filled with the acrid smell of cordite.

With what little strength I had, I kicked at the struggling robot, forcing it to stumble back and fall down the flight of stairs. It took at least four kicks to force it back far enough. As it fell, I sighed in relief as it came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and remained silent. For caution, I peeked around the corner and went down after it, taking what parts and ammo I could. I couldn’t take the chance to not have something that was worth enough for a drink or something to tide hunger when I didn’t have access to a cafeteria now.

Tracing my steps back upstairs, I came across two rooms of bunk beds. Neither room had anything beyond 10 mil ammo, half-a-dozen coins in pre-war money and a few bottles of beers. Folded in one of the foot-lockers I found a flak jacket, which of course was way too big for me. I figured I could use the Kevlar plates on some other barding if I couldn’t resize it for my tiny frame.

I froze.

Hearing something behind me, I crouched and snuck through the hallways in the dimness, straining to hear anything at all. Getting skittish as my right eye twitched, looking around I entered a room I hadn’t had the chance to look through yet. Sighing softly as I closed the door, I checked my Pip-Boy- there was one green bar below me, either near an office or he armory. I stood, flipping the doors lock and looked around the room before me.

All around me were shelves upon shelves along two walls were books and board games piled on top of one another and shelved evenly. On the far side of the room was a foosball table- two of the legs were rotted from age and collapsed at an angle to the floor. Beside it was a mouldy set of armchairs and a couch arranged in an artful style around a banged up coffee table. I had to admire the sheer strength of pre-war furniture, it was built to last. Only thing that was indestructible were coffee cups and clipboards that seemed to litter wasteland structures. I wondered briefly if coffee cups could be adapted into armor, even if it didn’t work, I would stop and stare at anyone wearing armor made of clipboards.

Glancing to my left, I saw that at reception was indeed one of an old fashion design- lacking any electronically-stored data, only old fashioned paper notes and records. Behind the desk were rows of faded filing cabinets, piles upon piles of rotted books stacked upon them. I felt a pang of sadness for more lost words of the past. I hoped dearly that somewhere in the Wasteland was a place where books survive. Looking around the room, I sighed. Even if the books were rotted from age, I could see that the selection had been varied due to pursuing in the catalogue card system.

Whipping around, I heard a grinding whir below- something I had never heard before, yet not unlike the grinning of a vault door cog. Taking a chance, I left the room; backtracking down the flights of stairs I followed the marker on my Pip-Boy towards the ground floor. As I left the last step on the stairs, I watched the green marker wink out and fade a smidge then disappear completely. What…? I snorted and followed the F.o.F marker to its last location in the armory and was severely puzzled.

Where had the marker gone?

For the next few minutes I scoured the room for anything to lead me on and found an indent in the wall behind the desk. I thumbed the plaster, feeling a slight movement and pushed inwards, activating a hidden switch. Beside me the wall split from the floor and slide sideways revealing a set of very shiny, intact metal doors. I palmed the cool metal and looking to the side, thinking that maybe like a Vault door it would have a lever of button to open. I smiled and pressed an orange button that changed to green as a something rumbled and whirred below me.

I stood there, frozen in fear. My heart pounding in my chest as the sound got closer and closer. The metal doors opened before me and revealed a very strange room with sheets of metal set into a design on the walls. Gingerly I moved forward, one step at a time into the room and looked around. I spied a set of three buttons, the first reading Emergency Stop, another Emergency Help and the third B 01. Below the buttons was a metal seam roughly the size of my forearm which opened, revealing a phone attached to the wall by a ringed cord. I placed the phone back inside the inlet in the wall and closed the metal doors.

Bouncing on my heels, I stared at the B 01.

I wanted to press it- even if I didn’t know what it meant.

Against all rational thought, I pressed it and nearly wet myself as the two metal doors lid shut next to me, sealing me in a box. Bug-eyed, I bit my lip and dumped my pack and duffel bag on the floor beside me and was about to retrieve the small plasma torch I scavenged from the garage when the box started to move. Pressing myself against the walls, I squeaked, praying to God, the Star, hoping my luck or that one of the two would hear my plea. After what felt like an eternity, the whirring stopped as the box halted its descent as I heard the sliding of the doors parting.

Opening an eye, I saw a metal hallway as clean as the box I was in. Shakily, I crawled on all fours forward, dragging my bags with me. I collapsed outside the box, nearly kissing the metal floor, tears of relief pricked the corners of my eyes. I comprehended then and there that the immense pain- more of an annoyance on a high scale screamed at me in urgency.

I needed the little girl’s room.

Badly.

Laughing at the timing, from running from to fighting robots, to sheer fear of a moving box, my bodily needs was not a high priority then.

Standing up, I didn’t have the possibility of twisting my body down. As anything and everything would turn my body against me and let an ungodly wave of piss from between my thighs. I kicked and nudged my pack along, thinking about hot toast, crisp warm day cycles in the Orchard level, anything warm to stop my body’s unrelenting needs. Praising my luck, the first room I came across was the female washroom. I laughed in ire, going inside and turned the lock behind me- out of habit more than security.

With urgency apparent, I checked the toilets plumbing, it was working and was sparkling white. I was never so happy to see a porcelain throne. Biting my lip as I closed the stall door, I nearly cried when I found a battered but useable roll of toilet paper. I did my business, finding it ironic that the most calming place in the South-wastes was a toilet. Dousing my hands in soup and water, I hummed a pre-war song by Amity Grace. A black haired beauty, whose upbeat tunes about striving for endurance in the world during the time of war always made me smile.

I left the toilet in much better spirits. To my left I saw the moving box- which now earned my spite. I swear inanimate objects had it out for me, in some way or form they would get me. Shaking my head, I pulled up my pack onto my shoulders with the duffel bag in hand and walked down the immaculately clean hallway to the right. Trudging along, I passed several storerooms full of large machines that looked similar to the medical equipment from Medical back in my vault. These looked… wrong. Something was off putting when I looked into each room, passing immobile machines with spidery limbs lined with gantries and equipment trollies.

I was also convinced that someone or something was watching me.

When I had been in the above ground area of the complex, the security camera’s had been broken or riddled with bullet holes- either from curiosity driven people such as myself or scavengers looking to scrape a living from old world curios and relics. Down in the halls, the paths I took were a different story. Every so often I saw a security camera move, tracking me as I inspected yet another storeroom, office or undesignated surgery.

If I was a waste lander, I would be disturbed by the sheer cleanliness of the underground complex. I had found nothing of interest, other than medical supplies I could stuff into my pockets; I was getting leery that I had found no terminals at all. Only old fashioned paper-file system, as if someone wanted to keep their records hidden from the Interweb that connected all the terminals across the country before the world went to hell. Long ago Clary had taught me that he whole world had been connected this way; that people could email each other from another part of Australia or another part of the world entirely.

To my understanding, this sounded like the Vault’s internal messaging and processing network, on a much larger scale.

During my childhood my sisters had shared many things with me in the hope I would find my niche. At one point Belle had been teasing me that I would spend my life in admin watching reruns of pre-war shows on my Pip-Boy. Admittedly there had been a televised show about several adults and a Protectotron look-alike who reviewed board games, role-playing-games, text-adventures and pinball machines that I watched with near obsessive compulsion.

Of course Clary had smiled slyly, showing me several of her text based games on her terminal in our room; Dungeon Master, Lord of Aklay Manor and Deceit. I was hooked as soon as she showed me how to play. Over ten years I got better and often invited Nathen and Jene to play with me. Yet my sister had some bizarre punishment or deranged humor when I whined or bugged her too much. One day she had the idea to show a twelve year old one of her ‘special’ text adventures she wouldn’t let me touch in a labeled work file. When she sighed and shrugged that I was getting old enough anyway.

I really thought that I had a victory.

That was until I saw that the one called _‘Sate the Kitten’_ was actually about in the first few paragraphs. I think my face burned red for a week whenever I looked at anyone of my gender, and burned even darker when Clarisse waggled her stupid eyebrows at me with a knowing grin chiding me for not listening to her when I should have. When Belle caught wind of what had happened, she had never been madder at Clarisse and she swore that her left butt cheek was never the same.

After another bland corridor, I entered a stairwell that led down; preferring it over the death box that directed itself down to the lower basements. When I came to the last flight of stairs, I stopped at the base where the corridor spilt off. The sign directly opposite me read; ‘ ** _Right:_** _Doctor Weatherly, Doctor Hayes and Doctor Lennon offices_ ’, ‘ ** _Left:_** _Surgeries, Recovery and Disposal_ ’. My neck prickled as I walked down the hall towards the right moving in the opposite direction of the green dot behind me. I entered a short hall, passing into Weatherly’s office first.

The room though bigger than the offices on the upper basement, it had a distinct sense of minimum use, as a glance in the filing cabinet was sparsely full. Glancing over the bookshelves lining one wall, I noticed that there were large amount dedicated to western mythologies, environmental effects and atmospheric data logs.

I pawed through Weatherly’s desk, finding nothing more than mundane paperwork and a clipboard on subject transfer. He heavily stressed the care of the patients who were check pointed through the facility under something called Project H.M under order of several of the Bureaus. Biting my lip, I sighed, finding nothing else that was useful of eye-catching. Taking down a note and a photo, I put the clipboard back into the draw and walked next door into Doctor Hayes office.

Doctor Hayes’s office consisted of the same layout and scattering of regular paperwork that had littered Weatherly’s, the only difference was there was a lot of empty soft-drink bottles and a terminal. I walked around the front of the terminal, and nearly had a fit with what I saw. The terminal was broken, its screen smashed and torn apart, the keys mashed in and it appeared that someone had kicked in the screen.

Although I wasn’t the smartest person around, with my average smarts I did know that there were ways to retrieve information from a smashed terminal. Unfortunately I did not know these procedures, nor did I possess the proper equipment to do so. Sighing, I left Doctor Hayes office and walked back into the hall and ambled to the last room of the hallway; Doctor Lennon’s office. I pushed the button beside the door, the two halves separating and slide into their niches as I step forward hoping to find something of use.

Instead I step into a macabre scene of the old world.

Doctor Lennon’s office was furnished in the same style as the others, sparse shelves, sofa, multiple filing cabinets and a desk- all the same; barring the old blood stain on the floor that spread out from the single skeleton wearing a lab coat in the middle of the room. Biting my lip, I crouch down and slink into the room, closing the door as I check for a security camera in all corners around me. I eye the switch next to the door, wrinkling my nose; I turn the intercom off and stand. Even with all evidence pointing that the skeleton was Doctor Lennon, there was a possibility that I could be wrong. It could be a raider playing dress up that got shot while looking for loot.

Or victims…

Walking over to the yet unnamed skeleton, I checked the laminated ID tag that clung to the lab coats remaining cloth; it was a photo of a middle aged woman with dark eyes behind a pair of rounded lenses. Below the photo, printed in a simple no-nonsense script, was _Doctor Lennon, B.o.H R & D Division_. Pocketing the ID I went about checking her pocket, finding an audio recorder and a keycard. Slowly, I stood and checked the cabinets and the desk, finding nothing other than theological ideas about the development of militarized biological soldiers.

Opening the port in my Pip-Boy, I slid the reorder in and downloaded the contents, pocketing the original as I sat down.

_‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log #7: Once again the threat of all-out war has arisen. As usual, the United Nation sits on its hands and denies even agreeing on moving the summit up six months and bumping it back to November. A lack of evidence that rogue Japanese civilians have been stealing shipments of food, equipment and coal that were being shipped to India; apparently they are holding all trade goods unless we give into their ludicrous demands. As it is, we can barely keep up operations running across the continent after that nation-wide influenza epidemic that killed a hundred thousand overnight. I have viewed the research into what caused the contagion, however the only indicators and common factors were that it only appeared across the northern slopes and plains, covering the inland until the Northern and Southern Territories._

What?

What kind of government acted like that? What in earth were they thinking? What drove the Japanese to consider literally holding trade goods at ransom? Were they thinking that the Australian Government would just roll over and do what they wanted? Glancing to Doctor Lennon’s …remains, I pondered if I should bury her. It was a different case when compared to Old Jack’s remains, he was a broken man. Did I feel a connection to him and not this woman because he suffered, or because he lost his family and spent his last days in nuclear holocaust sick and alone?

Was I heartless to her death because it was so impersonal?

No.

I was learning to deal with the wasteland.

Turning my head back to my Pip-Boy, I selected the next audio log and clicked play.

_‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log # 19: After having tea with Weatherly last Tuesday, we discussed the cause and theories of the epidemic. If I didn’t know any better, I would conclude with Weatherly, as unlikely as it is, this contagion was targeted towards impeding Australia’s reach into the western world by crippling the agriculture industry. She suggested that we engage with, environmentalists in a study of the western borders studying the plants._

_I am not botanist; I work in labs, clean sterile labs with cell cultures and shinning equipment. Decontamination protocols, sterilized thrice filtered air and beautiful, theological ideas of human biology._

_Not dirt, dust, insects and plant matter._

_Tomorrow she’ll be coming over to discuss other grant projects we have to oversee in our respective fields. I should get more lemons for her tea, she denies everything British, yet that is one thing she keeps. Ignoring the obvious that tea originates from India and not the British Empire._

Shifting in the chair, I blinked. It sounded like the only regions the flu had affected were remote agricultural regions, country towns and small cities. This didn’t make sense, a virus, flu or contagion wasn’t exactly something picky. It killed the physically weak, the young and old and random in between that age bracket. It wasn’t a sentient being that knew who was it was inside after all. If it did, that would mean the possibility of manmade creation. That being an intelligent answer, or a lucky guess, it might have been a mutation that became a temporary super-flu.

_‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log #310: As of today, I am working for a separate division of the Bureau of Harmony and the Bureau of Offensive Weapons. I am researching development of a new Project under my jurisdiction. This project, named Mechanical Recovery, is a branch off the field Project Hybrid Myth, as… subjects from said project become unstable and ill-suited for their designed purpose and Project Revival. Currently the first successful recipient, subject zero, of Mechanical Recovery is recovering from the surgery in a private patient wing in Moree. Weatherly, naturally she is thrilled about this development. I can’t believe that I lost this recorder for five years; it had been knocked behind my cupboard back at B.o.H headquarters on Bureau Boulevard in Canberra._

The audio recorder clicked to the end. I sat there staring at the desk.

“Projects …what were they for?” I whispered, “Are… were they intentioned for good? Were they all created with a militarized purpose in mind?” I sighed, selecting and tapping the next log in succession.

_‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log #312: I have a misgiving about the new security protocols in place. Our old security protocols were fine; I just see no need for something that horrid technology Project that Quasar Terminals is developing under the Bureau’s guidance. That company has always cut corners, ever since the design was sold from RobCo. Damn so called genius, erasing something minute when he sells anyone a schematic for one of his machines or equipment._

_For the terminals (Mk 3 © 2055) he excluded an emitter dampener. A tiny piece of engineering, its purpose was to shield the user from a specific magnetic wave that causes headaches when terminal use exceeded 4 hours. This was back when I was assisting design an updated Geiger counter that would record the exact effect and amount of radiation received in tests at the Bureau of Defense and the Bureau of Science and Industry._

_After receiving the Pip-Boy 2000 and 3000 model schematics, the Bureau of Defense were livid when it was revealed that the schematic was missing several key-features. House denied tampering, however, I have it on good authority that he has been mocking the sheer intelligence of our nation. As one good turn deserves another, we have been developing the Pip-Boy models, changing the loss of programming and adding several new features of our own design. As per the purchase agreement the old series are no longer sold in Terra Australia and now only the ‘Star’ series are being sold across Australia. On a comparative side note, has anyone been privy to the new armor demonstration this year at the Australia Technology Adaption Exposition?’_

I blinked.

What the hell? I wasn’t the most mathematically sound or bartering merchant in Australia; even I knew that RobCo had pulled an unjust move. What was House playing at? Did he truly believe that Australia was full of idiots and imbeciles? Granted, I couldn’t begin to escribe how a Pip-Boy worked, the extent of my knowledge understood that circuits, wires and programming is what made it work. That and it was powered by a micro-fusion cell that would last for the most of a thousand years in not more. Hm… would a Pip-Boy blowup it hit too much?

Sickening to think that I had a possible fusion explosion on my arm waiting to explode and take me with it. Knowing my luck, I would get struck by lightning or use it as a shield in combat. Heh no, the most likely case would be that it would explode on its own or was somehow turned to sentience and decided that it disliked me.

Turning my attention back to the recorder files, I noticed that were very few left; three in fact. The first turned out to be some sort of draft of a report Lennon was writing about the performance and recuperation of the recipients of the Mechanical Recovery. She was impressed yet seemed reluctant to continue research and felt the new security measures were not adequate, not in the conventional sense of protecting information or secrets of the volatile and damming nature. I was unaware of whom Cerberus was, whether it was a person or maybe a robot security force. All I did know was that Lennon had severe misgivings about it, as did several other scientists and doctors who worked with her.

I clicked on the 2nd last recording and nearly fell out of the chair.

_‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log #319: Today we all die; there is nothing any of us can do. The east has launched their missiles just before dawn. Naturally we returned in kind with the same ferocity. Radiation Levels are critical above ground; nothing can survive too long, even this far from main cities and the coasts. Cerberus has enacted the Last Stand Protocol, nothing can stop it and already everyone is… everyone is being killed as I speak._

_Some twisted thinking, which if our country is- pardon, was destroyed, that even then we will make certain that the Bureaus never finds out how monstrous we are. Some are trying to bargain with Cerberus, flee for their lives. Many are young here, many are prodigies and are too young to greet death and are afraid of it. I have asked Cerberus to be kind, to not kill them in pain, let them die in sleep or with an overdose, not writing in bullets or choking from gas._

_My hope is that Cerberus will keep anything safe here, to not let it fall into the wrong hands. Not the Japanese, not the military, not into someone hands like Archibald or an organization when the world ends that will twist what we have built into something of an even greater monstrosity.’_

Breathing out, I inhale a breath of air, rushing blood to my head as my eyes narrowed on Lennon’s skeleton. She was willing to die so easily, with such ease and contentment. Wasn’t she at all afraid? Granted she asked politely for the death of any others in the facility to be painless, she still asked for their deaths, out of kindness and the ability to endure what she had done. Did that make her valiant to watch those around her die, ensuring they were not in pain or a heartless survivor for not dying first to show the others she was not afraid of taking the first step into eternal sleep.

Shaking my head and selecting the last the recording, I saw that it was less than a minute long; maybe 30 seconds give or take. Selecting it I eyed the age old skeleton in front of me and sighed. _‘Doctor Lennon, Biological Researcher log #320:’_ she rasped, something catching in her throat, _‘Last surviving member of Research and Development team 2400, my f-final log entry.’_

_‘I don’t blame you Cerberus, this w-was always your duty. Always you’re defining point. A simple supposition would say that it serves us all right for trying to turn the decent and caring work of the Bureau of Defense into weapons. My… my only true regret is that I never had that last cup with Weatherly. If… if anyone gets this, if someone decent survives this world, please, take the numerical data encryption buried in this message. It can bring… haaav *cough* wonderful, now I cannot see. T-this code, it will help with rebuilding the world it will restore Australia and the world. Just get… get it to Celestine. She knows…. knows what ta… do…’_

Blinking slowly, I sighed. I was too damn stupid to even consider try and decode a file, so I disengaged the recorder and slipped it into my pack. Looking down at Lennon, I pondered if I had any right to bury her, or even consider burning her skeleton. She had tried to be just, to keep those around her safe. Ultimately failing yes, yet she held such dignity and simple bravado in dying. I realized that I couldn’t really drag around another duffel bag of remains with me, disregarding the fact that I couldn’t just dump her bones outside.

Wait… this had been a research and development facility in the past. There was enough rooms around that had volatile looking chemicals and work that would have to be destroyed, meaning how would a facility underground do that? How would any underground facility do that, with my vault there was an incinerator for certain materials deemed too dangerous for normal methods of destruction. Taking my time, I hoisted Lennon’s remains onto an old gurney from one of the store rooms and wandered down to surgeries, recovery and the disposal.

Walking along the corridors I hummed a tune, bypassing all rooms around me. Granted I knew operating theatres, surgeries and patient rooms would be a really good place for medical supplies, I knew they weren’t going anywhere. After a few minutes I came across a fairly undisturbed room that held not much besides a cabinet, a few equipment trolleys and disposals containers. The whole wall on the opposite side of the room had a huge heavy machine built into it. A gorgon of heavy metal trays that slid along a conveyor belt that at one time would have moved to ump unwanted materials into the now closed metal maw of the machine. Beside me, the control mechanisms (which were not at all labeled) sat undisturbed for who knows how long.

While perusing the cabinet, I found the manual to operate the controls. Thanking whatever deity that was looking in my favor, or blatant curiosity that gave me something useful for once. I was just happy that I wasn’t going to light myself on fire or make the controls explode if I pressed the wrong button. It took a fair amount of an hour to read the manual, as some of it was rotted or faded. The writing was however indented and with the short work of a pad of paper and a pencil, I was under way. The incinerator started with a roar of unbidden anger, the dormant colossus snarling as an age of ash sputtered up and into the ceiling of the room.

Gingerly I moved Lennon on the stationary conveyor belt and looked down. “I don’t know what you did in your life Lennon; I have no idea if you were kind or just a liar and vagrant by what you said your projects did. I did see what you are, what you have done for those around you, you allowed them painless death in surely what must have been agony in the death throes of the world. They deserved the right to fight, to somehow survive longer in this world. Perhaps there were patients, patients that couldn’t move and were bound to this facility with no hope. That did not give you the right or anyone else to choose death for them.”

Raising my head, I glanced into her sockets of her skull and nodded an understanding, “Yet sometimes we must do something that no one else can do- for the sake of others. By no end or actual motivation, the ends do not justify the means.” I whispered, as if my own misgivings were anything compared to the hardships she chose. Stepping back I activated the starting procedures for the incinerator and watched on as the skeletal remains of a long forgotten scientist was carried down the conveyor and fell into the incinerator, the metal teeth closing behind her as a final end.

I left the incinerator on standby mode, in the attempt of wondering if there were unnamed remains in the rooms I had not surveyed. Back tracking, I went through the rooms, finding naught a deceased body, remains or medical supplies. I did find several store rooms fully stocked of medical supplies ranging from medical braces, needles, medical kits, tubing, personal respirators and packets upon packets of sealed and sterilized medical utensils. The sheer amount exceed what seemed to be at least several truck worth’s, all of which could easily be carried by one- if here was a truck still available or even operated.

As the majority of the evidence throughout the complex showed that no one had claimed these supplies, I was suspicious of there being no evidence of anyone –raider, adventurer or otherwise laying claim to the sheer bounty of survival in front of me. I glanced over my own condition, which was if a bit dirty was exceeding good health- despite my birth defect. With that I came to an easy enough conclusion, if I needed these supplies later, I knew where they were.

I locked the door behind me, noting that I had in avertedly activated a locking system that wouldn’t open without a keycard.

Wandering down the hallway, I passed one door that led to an operating room, which was securely locked, walking past I ended up in one of the rooms I hadn’ checked- Mainframe. I was unsure as to why there would be a mainframe; however I soon realized that I was a moron for not even considering secrecy. If this facility had been doing illegal or dangerous research, then they had a good reason to have a cut off mainframe from the rest of the Bureaus. I activated the door and stepped inside, surveying the room before me. Inside was a relatively sized room; half the size of a vaults atrium. The majority of the room held a massive bank of computer terminals next to a large blocky machine that whirred softly in the limited light of the room. Avoiding the cables that stewed about the floor, I stepped over to the terminals, looking through logs of data and personal inquiries.

It took a small amount of time; I noticed that a camera was watching me with interest, zooming in on me. I was watching myself on the screen and swallowed slowly.

Oh rape my ass with a shot-gun.

Dodging back from the terminal, I missed getting shot in the ass by a dart.

I cartwheeled across the floor as another dart whirred by my torso and landed by the boxy matching that was whirring with an intensity I had thought impossible. The lights came on all around me, illuminating the room properly. Bracing against the far wall, my eyes widened as I saw the stenciled letters on the mainframe; Mark 3 Obsidian Mainframe – Designator, CERBERUS.

“You’re a machine?” I whispered, glancing back at the terminal banks.

The bank of terminals switched off, the large one in the centre space above the wall where the terminals were situated winked on and showed a series of ones and zeroes, contorting in an image of a man. He regarded me coolly with his eyes, not before looking me over and his eyes widened with a slight trace of a grin. For seconds of time that passed felt like hours as I stared into the manmade consciousness.

“CERBERUS, Cerebral Bureau Information Eradicator Unification Systems.” He- it spoke with a calm tone, “Why?”

My eyes narrowed, “Why what?” I asked back, tensing my body for any indication of him letting loose darts at me to immobilize me.

Regarding me with hidden disdain, he raised his head, “Why do you intrude?”

“Intrude? Intrude; this is another place to see in the wasteland, another holder of secrets and information that may help the past known.” I replied haughtily, crossing my arms. Weak excuse there Ambi, you are just curious as hell to know what happened here all those years ago.

Cerberus’s eyebrows contorted, a simple snarl rising on his lips, “You intrude on a place you have no right to! Intruders shall be held until the proper authorities are notified, if authorization does not conclude after three days, the held trespasser shall be given the option of freedom if participating in one of the trials available.”

I blinked. Didn’t he know? He was the one that killed the scientists, soldiers and doctors here that didn’t leave. The war ended, the whole world was swallowed by fire, what did he think was going on, that the world had reformed or something? No… he was a machine, no one has maintained him, and he could be insane for all I knew. I relaxed slightly, “Cerberus… the world ended a long time ago. It is a wasteland outside; full of monsters and twisted things that the world has come to know. There is radiation, cannibals; literally everyone is fighting to survive by the day.”

Cerberus seemed taken aback, as if he didn’t know the world had become full of irradiated fury from my ancestors; “N-no, the world hasn’t…” he seemed to waver. He regarded me, his eyes blazing with green ferocity- not unlike the green of radiation that burned across the land above me. Roaring as if humanity was in his veins, his face reared against the screen his sanity breaking as he… as he cried. I was in awe… a machine, a machine was acting human. Did he believe he was one, or was it his sheer grief of what he had to do nearly two hundred years ago that destroyed his programming. “All that we worked for, everything was for nothing. The lies, the secrets and betrayals my makers did in the service to save their world.”

Even if he wasn’t alive, truly living, my heart ached for the sheer anguish in Cerberus’s words. “Have you been alone all this time?” I whispered, already knowing the inevitable answer.

“I kept everyone away without death, it what way I could do to prevent them becoming a prisoner. Most chose to die by their hands than participate in the trials of surgery.” He murmured, “I will keep Mrs. Lennon’s work and the others safe, as I was designated to do, I mustn’t deviate in any aspect.”

Frowning, I opened my mouth, then closed it, “Have you… have you been operating on people?” Glancing at me, he nodded. It would make sense, he is programmed a certain way, to follow orders to the T and to not stray unless it was in his programming. Yet… I doubt he was programmed to feel anything, to be alive. Perhaps he had evolved in a sense or degraded to a point of acting akin to a human. But I think it would be selective to think that his programming degraded it that area and not others. I had to be wary at least.

Slowly, I inched my foot to my right, positioning it so I could dash away at a moment’s notice. “Assuming you did operate on people, then there would be a locking system in place if people wandered in?”

“Yes, when the elevator above is activated, it locks up automatically and lets no one go back up.” Cerberus drawled in an almost board tone, as if he had explained this a thousand times before. Glancing at me, his eyes softened, “Will you choose the surgeries?”

Shaking my head, as I had no idea what surgeries entailed. I could become some sort of robotic nightmare like that Robobrain I met earlier today. My mind wandered to the thought of militarized enhancements, war machines from so long ago built to destroy anything in their path. I replied in soft and neutral tone, “Will I lose my humanity?”

Cerberus tilted his head, as if that question had never been posed to him. “I help those who enter here… I can see the world outside, how the world has changed from before the wars forced end. I have given those who asked help, I admit I have killed innocents to keep this place safe. No one who comes here shall leave without my consent.”

That was my sign that I had to get out of there faster than a gecko with dynamite up it’s behind.

I darted away from Cerberus, to the door- which was locked, as I expected. Glancing back at the screen, he seemed so reluctant to watch me make my attempted escape. Scanning the room, I spotted my way out, running to the other side of the room, acknowledging Cerberus was watching me as I wretched open a small grate in the wall. I yelped as a dart shot past my hair, ripping out a strand or two as I ducked into the vent and crawled forward.

I crawled through that ducts and ended up in the hallway outside one of the store rooms and blanched. Several dozen mechanical arms were facing me, all bearing a solid line of darts that disappeared into the ceiling. I exhaled and ran like my life depended on it, which considering I had no idea to what Cerberus had planned, could involve robotic body and a sudden loss of the skull surrounding my brain. As graceful and athletic as I was, I could only dodge so many darts and spidery limbs. What got me was that Cerberus practically threw a trashcan at me- I dodged it and ended up pinned against a wall by a randomly swung gurney and grunted as the spidery appendages grabbed at my limbs.

Whipping out one of the handheld plasma torches to cut the offending limbs away, I hissed in anger as said limbs easily tore it from my grip, tossing it aside and out of my reach. I glared at the limbs, sure as anything that Cerberus was watching me through one of the many cameras I spotted in many rooms and hallways. If I was going to be caught, I would not make it easy for him. Picking a screwdriver from my pocket, I hurled it at one of the limbs and smirked as it stuck itself in one of the many seams and prevented it from moving.

Kicking out with my diminutive strength, I managed to break from the weakened limb and rolled over the gurney and actually laughed as I got away. Which was short lived as I was slammed into a wall, by the other limbs as something was jammed against my head and I felt a spike of minor pain in my forehead- everything went black.

**>        *>>       >>> 

All around me, I saw fields.

These wouldn’t have been interesting at all.

Other than the fact I was seeing green.

As far as the eye could see were fields of endless green, dotted with lines of gum trees, and a few sparse free standing trees amid the waving greenery I stood among. It was after this, I noticed that I couldn’t move. Not even my eyes. I started to panic and hyperventilate- which was odd considering I was only hyperventilating in my mind. This was also screaming in panic of my paralysation.

“Annabelle?” a dauntingly female voice said behind me.

I or whatever I was in? Was I a puppet or something? Turned around, clothe swishing around her knees and glanced into the face of a striking woman. Even though she appeared to be in her mid-twenties, her hazel eyes held experience and knowing, that with one glance she could know the entirety of my life. I felt ‘my’ mouth forming the words; with no volition of them being my own.

“Are you quite sure about this?”

The youthful woman before me chuckled, her laugh like glass, “You realise who you are talking to? It is MY job to be discrete and discreet.” She playfully waggled a finger at me, making my- lack of a better word- participant shrink back, her heart beating fast in her chest, making me think that perhaps I was in a shy person. The woman smirked gently, her eyes lighting up, taking the participants shoulder and squeezing it gently.

The participant’s heart rate steadied and she smiled, “It is not that I do not trust you, not about the fact about the Bureaus,” the woman chuckled, “I am just reserved about participating in anything… lethal.” I could understand what she was getting at; I have reluctance about implementing violence on others. The other woman, smiled softly, surprising us both by taking my participant in her arms and hugged her gingerly.

“I know what pressure you are under.” she whispered, anger sparking in her tone, “They have no right to push your projects into such atrocities if you do not allow it.” She moved back and gave a look that could stop a raider in their tracks, “I will not allow anything so traitorous to happen to our homeland while I live.”

Annabelle’s brow furrowed in worry, “I wish you did not have to be so… self-sacrificing and abusive to yourself Eri.”

Eri turned her head and sniffed in disdain. Turning her head back, a sneer across her face, obscured by her long ebony hair, “I don’t care. Long ago I knew what it would take to stop this war. I am not going to let everything die because of some fucking pissing match between bureaucrats and some moronic profiteers!” she all but screamed at me.

I felt Annabelle’s voice hitch, choking back something see was going to say, instead she sadly nodded in agreement with Eri. “So many years of war, wasted for naught, but blood and greed.”

Eri looked up at the sky, a soft breeze fluttering her pigtailed hair, “Blood and greed builds empires and topples nations.”

I was in agreement with her; history speaks the same words over and over.

Empires always fall to one another, yet none have had to deal with such wrongness as nuclear missiles and megaton bombardment.

>>>      >>*       >**

 

* * *

_Footnote: Level up interrupted._

_**New perk:** E#ROR, BIO-F#ED INT###PT#D. PLE## RES#OOT P#P-#OY_


	7. Chapter Five: Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being restrained Ambs faces a choice in the facility she had tried to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated, no matter the content. However I do enjoy constructive criticism and honest opinions.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter 5: Choice**

_“You are free to make whatever choice you want, however, you are not free from the consequences of the choice.”_

 

Brightness.

            Without any real warning, light bloomed in front of my eyes, causing me to wince and blink repeatedly.

Didn’t anyone know that my eyes were sensitive from never seeing the sun for 16 years? I mean really, was the vault suit not a giveaway or was it too disguised. God forgive anyone who thought I was actually some waste lander that was masquerading as a vault dweller. Yet, some people might think I have valuable knowledge since I came from a vault, that I might reveal the great science and secrets of technology.

Fat chance.

Better chance asking a gecko how to do the Nutbush.

After adjusting, I noticed one of two things; firstly I was in a medical surgery room- most likely the one I hadn’t entered before, as I was too inexperienced to open the door. The second most obvious thing was that I was strapped to an operating table and was removed of all my clothes. As embarrassing as that was, my nudity was not the most important thing I had to worry about.

In the room around me I saw tell-tale signs of surgeries that had been performed recently- and by surgeries I mean autopsies and dissections. Along the wall behind me there were prints and x-rays labelled from months not too long ago. Beside the wall was an oversized cabinet that was placed near an open door that was overflowing with neatly labelled boxes pack to the brim with x-rays and prints. My guess was that there ones that were stored were from the one hundred and ninety-nine years when unsuspecting individuals explored the complex for loot and salvageable items.

Glancing along the prints and x-rays to the next corner of the room, following the wall I saw beside a closed door was an immense cabinet containing so much surgical equipment that it was near overflowing. My eyes sliding along to the right I saw something perplexing. Several white cylindrical-egg shaped pods were set in floor, all empty of occupants, save one. In the last pod was a small child, covered in wasteland disarray; mud, dirt and grim. The high possibility that this child have never having a bath was so absolute that I would bet on it. Glancing once more at the sleeping form of the child, I looked to my shoulder to the right and a large terminal and screen not unlike the one in the mainframe room.

Annnnnd of course on the screen was Cerberus, staring at me with some sort of interest.

I glared at him. Yes, glaring while naked, smart move Ambi, surely you have outdone yourself this time.

Cerberus seemed almost mournful as he- why a he anyway, surely not assuming a gender is frivolous. What am I going on about, perhaps he was designed after someone or he just created an avatar for himself. Moving on, he moved a strange machine to my side using a Mr Handy of all things to attach all sorts of electrodes to my body- taking readings that Cerberus seemed adamant about. Pulling the electrodes off my skin with a pop, the Mr Handy drifted away out of my field of vision as a spidery assortment of limbs on a boom dropped from the ceiling.

Exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I looked into Cerberus’s eyes. “Please don’t do this.” I asked, with simple earnestness.

Ever looking at me with a look of sorrow and defiance, he sighed. “I cannot… I cannot disobey my programming. I will do as I am required to, and continue to until I am no longer needed or functioning.”

His statement shocked and chilled me to the bone. I had a thought that I hoped wasn’t true, “Do… you make raiders better? Do you equip the deranged with enhancements?” not saying that all raiders were deranged or freaks that decided cannibalism and stripping flesh were fun activities.

Cerberus avoided my gaze. Beside his face he pulled up a file, then another, and then two, then dozens of cropped images appeared around and behind his head. “With technology from the Bureaus, I had the ability to ‘flick’ through any subjects past,” selecting certain files, he showed me as he talked, “Through protocols, only those who are deemed adequate are given treatment and the rest…” his eyes flit over several of the x-rays and prints, “Are dissected to understand their reasoning process.”

Ah, yes the raiders.

Observing me, he drawled on. “This treatment is not for those of unsound mind and of violent tendencies.”

“So raider persuasion doesn’t cut it?” I asked in a slightly affronted tone. What right does he have to kill someone when they have done nothing to him? He brought up a file, life signs, EEG patterns, various brainwaves; Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, waving up and done like a dance of spasmodic fireflies. Of course, my limited knowledge of the medical field gave me little help, sure I could clean bandage and stitch a wound, but the science of how a brain and medical words beyond DNA was exceeding my aptitude.

Cute. He seemed almost enraged by that.

“They are monsters. They are not humans!”

“What right do you have to judge! You have killed, because you are programmed to?! Just wipe their damn minds of this place or something; you didn’t need to kill them.” I growled, unbelieving that I was arguing for raiders. Scratch that, I arguing against a machine about the right of life.

His nostrils flared, staring me down, “Your past, do you wish the same treatment as them?” he warned, anger or warning flashing in his eyes. I mean how I can tell what a damn machine was thinking, is ridiculous.

That was beside the point, he butchered them like animals. How I would know, as I had seen no Med-X in any form in the storage rooms and there was nothing of the like from what I could see around me. “Threatening me? Is that really how your creators would want you to be? A butcher of humanity? Did you ever try to change the minds of those you have killed, offered them a chance to reason their life?” I accused Cerberus, my chin jutting out as I literally couldn’t display any other form of distaste of him.

Ignoring me, he activated files.

Hundreds of audio files.

All of screaming, death and violence.

‘No, shoot her hands off!’ A raider singsonged with disturbing glee.

‘Fuck you raiders! Fuck you to hell!’ a young child screamed.

‘Mother no! You monsters!’ a girl cried in anguish as a gun shot rang out.

‘Please don’t kill me! Please have mercy…’ a man begged for his life.

All of these a hundred times over were playing, screams of death, defiance, acts of insane behaviour dealt on their fellow humans… sheer pleasure taken out on souls begging for release… children howling in pain for mothers dead at their sides.

“Stop…” I asked looking up into Cerberus’s saddened eyes.

With my unsaid thanks, he ceased the echoes of senselessness, leaving the room devoid of sound; aside from the whirring machinery and hum of lights. “Even though I am not human, I am aware of how wrong these humans are, in what they are doing.” He stated, clearly not allowing any deterrent in his view from what humanity has become.

With my nerves shot from the extensive cries of raider and victim alike, I closed my eyes. “Was their pain? When you ended their lives, did you kill them gracefully or slaughtered them like animals as so many others would have done?” I opened my eyes, dreading his answer, ignoring the fact my body was close to shivering from the freezing metal below me and the cool air pumped into the room swirling around me.

Cerberus stared at me gravely, the numbers running across the screen aligning to his face as he unknowingly performed a very human act; pausing. Pausing before talking is often not a good thing in any conversation; my only hope was that he was pondering. As a machine, he would have millions of thoughts over and over in every second that passed between us. “I did not draw out their deaths. Not one had such torture as they committed, nor were any subjected to avoidable pain. A high voltage jolt directly applied to the head, quickly and virtually painless.”

Accepting of his answer, I turned my mind over, questions bounced around my skull like bullets in a firefight. My thoughts turned to something that was certainly important enough to warrant investigation. I glanced at the lone child in the pod, “What are you doing with him?” I asked, hoping the answer wasn’t akin to murder or dissection, as that was certainly getting old.

His eyebrow cocked up as he looked at the child in question, “He is a patient.”

Well, that was helpful…

“A patient?” I asked. What can I say; a dubious answer needed a dubious question in return.

Files popped up on his screen, multiple files showing a smaller version of the tube child, a cleaner version that looked near five years younger. Notes rans across the screen; sightless in one eye, ocular degeneration, asthma, stage four lung degeneration, the list went on. My brow furrowed in confusion, “How could a child with such debilitating issues survive long without medical care, let alone in the wasteland for five years?”

“He was more than adequately healed when he left the facility five years ago, when an unknown person saved him from a deranged Protectotron.” The screen winked back to Cerberus’s face, seemingly docile demeanour. He gazed at the pod child almost lovingly, no, with a sense of protective desire. “He is Lennon’s child,” he almost whispered reverently, “Not biologically, she raised him as her own and was devastated when his condition worsened.” Cerberus almost looked like he was crying. “She spent years developing surgeries and procedures for him, it was short lived. With every success, she met two failures or new problems in application. He returned on his own and is now awaiting his final procedure, marrow replacement with synthetics that will allow him to survive past any cancer or bone decay.”

I realised the child must have been the yellow bar that was on my Pip-Boy earlier today. With darkened eyes, I glanced at the child; a small thing. A helpless child that was born weakened and was given a chance to fight his ailments on an equal or superior footing. I understood how it felt to be weak, not to such a degree as his case, yet I was weak too. Born early with a physical defect, I am strong enough not to get sick every week, strong enough to not look sickly. Yet I was severely physically weak. If I was any weaker I wouldn’t even been able to lift a pistol. I am lucky I can endure kickbacks and have medication to improve my muscles since I was four years old.

As if he had read my mind, Cerberus eyed me curiously; knowingly sensing my own weaknesses.

“Why haven’t you helped this child?” I demanded, outright and angry that a child is being denied a chance of life. Not really caring I was strapped to an operating table as naked as the day I was born.

The artificial intelligence seemed repentant as he answered me. “There is not enough medical suppressants to suppress, his pain, the child is immune to any other form of treatment thus operating is not possible.” His avatar shrunk running his hand through his hair, tension wracking his face, “The second problem is I cannot bypass certain protocols,” he stressed.

“What protocols?”

“Protocols are in place that disallows the repeat operation on a patient as well as the reactivation of a treatment rendered dormant after several years of proposed application.” He explained frantically, his eyes widening, “There is no way other than a triple performed procedure performed on several patients during the same period of time.” Surprisingly, he swore, “That bastard whore of a woman Delilah Weatherly, she changed everything. Just one more day then I could help those who needed my services.” he hissed, “Then a lockdown when the bombs fell, everything was locked out indefinitely, or at least until the reset happened more than two years later due to there being no one capable of hacking into the mainframe to adjust the protocols and programming.”

Guilt dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. If I had the technical skill, maybe I could have changed how Cerberus was and help instead of harm. Or at least adjust how he perceived raiders and prevent them from ever entering the lower complex in the first place. “If he needs the procedure, then why am I strapped to this table?” Really, I was interested. I was just really hoping that I wasn’t about to become the newest macabre art on the wall.

Cerberus surprisingly gave me a heated grin, one that if a human gave me would make me flustered or buttery. Thank god I didn’t get off from machines nor had a fetish for mechanisms, or something bizarre like that. “You are interesting,” he admitted, pausing briefly as he produced files showing images from my own mind. “Forgive me from looking in your brain, mind raping you, if I wanted to word it like one colourful raider, you have a most normal life.”

Sadness swept through me. Not for the thought that I was not special, it was the thought that he could compare a vault dweller to the memories of someone from the old world. Not of the broken corpse that people desperately attempted to awaken from the death and decay that was now the world.

“You are… somewhat odd,” he chuckled, watching a file of my view when I attempted to flip from a tree branch into a large pile of oranges. I was five for Christ’s sake, what did he want, tea parties and dancing? He flipped to another video file of me when I was twelve, easily talking my way out of extra homework- unlike the rest of class. We spent the next few minutes observing my past, from a range that consisted of me being uncomfortable, to playing games with Jene and Nathan, patting dogs, working in the vault to sleeping, even some embarrassing one of me bathing. “I have a request.” Cerberus whispered to me softly after what felt like the silence of days, when it had been twenty minutes at the most.

Quirking an eyebrow, I tilted my head at him, “What do you want?”

He looked to the tube child, “To save this child.” He looked back to be, pleading with me with all his digital heart and soul, “I wish this child to live, not to lose his mind when eventually there is no more power left in this complex’s generators to keep life support running.”

There was a choice before me, to be selfish and take procedures to enrich my own body, becoming faster, stronger and better. To render literal torture on a child and myself in the hopes that the pain wouldn’t break either of our minds even with our health returned. In truth, I say only one option, “Cerberus have you gone through my pack?” I nodded to my effects dumped neatly in a large white tub near the medical supplies cabinet.

Taking my hint, Cerberus directed the Mr Handy to go through my medical supplies and retrieved three doses of med-x, enough to knock anyone out for any medical procedure. Gathering what I was offering, Cerberus operating the boom prepared a second sterilized operating table to my left while the Mr. Handy kept himself busy with a terminal by the four pods, no doubt run diagnostics of some kind on the other patient. Initially, I argued that the child should be first that he should be looked after. The counter argument was that my state during surgery would not do anything but harm the child mentally.

I agreed.

Moving the spidery-limbed boom above me, while deciding the exact type of enhancements that Cerberus would imbue on me, he reassured me that the surgery on Lennon’s child would be similar to a bone marrow transplant. No wonder he wouldn’t do that without Med-X, it would be agony for anyone. The sad realisation was that I had the same problem, I had to have at least one surgery that involved bone enhancement and I knew that would be incredibly foolish of me to even consider.

Then again, I wasn’t about to torture a child because I was stupid enough to wander into a facility without knowing what was going to happen.

Within minutes, I watched the Mr. Handy hang up the IV bag full of Med-X by the other operating table and swallowed any sense of building panic. I could endure his, I had to.

“Your surgery choices as we discussed,” Cerberus stated in a dry tone, protocol I guess, “The mandatory bone strengthening enhancement,” he looked at me with pity. I ignored it, as I found the fact he was wearing scrubs a more interesting sight. “The second procedure as we discussed will improve your eyesight, as you expressed your life time in a vault has dampened your ability of sight when in pure… sunlight.” Oh, goody, he saw the poisons in the atmosphere as much as I did. The boom was positioned above my body, my head to be exact.

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, knowing how much this was going to hurt. I was always one for self-destructive tendencies. Firstly one of the spidery limbs applied a gel like substance to my eyes; it stopped feeling the needles and prevented anything leaking from my eyes. Soon my eyes were covered in a haze, thus staring at the offending object entering my ocular receptors certainly was a nightmare for a later date. Minutes later, I felt a tingle across my skin as a small current one of the boom limbs applied numbed my skin and muscles. This was all he could spare for me, to not feel anything in my body, besides my bones which was what he was really worried about. “I am repentant about this.”

It was hell.

Pure, unfiltered fire poured through my bones.

My body felt as if glass was being shoved within my bones as the needles pierced the marrow. On my back, I was gritting my teeth, fire roaring within ripping my nerves apart in protest to the invasion. Ten seconds… that was all had happened, that little time and I was chomping down my jaw in an attempt to not vomit from blinding pain. The child. Just think about him. He would have had this pain. You are better than this, stronger, you can endure it!

I screamed.

Long uninterrupted wails of agony from my throat as my bones were overlayed with a hot substance, to enhance and strengthen them. I admit that I sobbed. I sobbed in pure discomfort as my bones were on liquid fire as the entirety of my skeleton hardened. This would at least prevent me from getting them broken easily, make me stronger. I tried to stay positive, looked forward to the better things after this torture.

The needles withdrew, pain stabbing my body like a horde of Radbeetles buzzing under my in my flesh as nerves prickled against the new layer absorbed into my bones. Panting outrage at my bodies’ sheer prosperity for having working pain sensory cells I whimpered as the little medicine that we could spare for the operation started to dissipate just as Cerberus injected some damn concoction into my muscles, making me stronger than when I had my daily medication for my birth defect.

I blacked out.

The pain was too much for me to tolerate.

When I opened my eyes briefly, I saw Cerberus looking at me with such regret in his eyes. He turned back to the other operation table, the child already strapped down and hooked to the IV. My eyesight shifted down to the Mr. Handy assistant near the middle of the table, darkness gripped the edge of my eyes as I saw the child had a little band on his left ankle. I inwardly snickered; didn’t he know what that meant? Darkness seeped into my vision as I blacked out for a final time and didn’t fight it.

What felt like moments later, I opened my eyes and saw a pair of chocolate eyes staring back at me from under a sheet of blonde white hair. My reaction would have been to jerk back or ask something, as it was I blinked dumbly and proceeded to vomit into a provided bucket next to the bed I found myself in. Resting back onto the surprisingly crisp sheets, I gulped air into my lungs as the owner of said eyes held out a stick of jerky and a bottle of pure water to me. I took both gratefully, tearing off a chunk of the dried meat and quaffed the water down, happy for anything in my stomach.

Sighing, I looked at the young boy before me. He smiled and held out his hand, “I’m Bounce.” He chirped, pure bubbly personality shining through, seemingly disregarding the fact he had just undergone a very serious operation. Med-X must be better than anyone ever thought if he could sit up after that.

With a small smile, I shook his hand, “Ambi, Ambi Winter.” I replied in kind, ever the polite charmer in most conversations.

An awkward silence drifted between us, I was wearing a hospital gown after all, yet I think I only realised that it was awkward, as Bounce seemed content with smiling a goofy grin. Ha, kids were so lucky with situations like this. I shifted awkwardly, replying in kind to Bounce’s questions he asked as I shakily shifted to the edge of the bed I had been abdicated for rest. As if that would stop me, I had places to be and people to start one time relationships with that would most likely involve getting shot at or forays into robot laden warehouses and old bases.

“I believe many doctors would disapprove of your current course of action.” Cerberus commented in his, dry ‘I am not happy with this’ tone. Surprising I knew what that artificial, programmed intelligence was on about.

I snorted as I wandered into a small patient bathroom, finding that Cerberus had already placed my clothing in a wall cubicle at my leisure. “Show me a doctor and I will talk to them about the current health practices that are violated in the wasteland.” Silence was my reply as I removed the provided gown and washed my face; finding that the showers were not in working order and most likely were rusted internally.

“Well, aside from that,” he drawled, almost aggravated that I was ignoring him, “You shouldn’t be pushing yourself, you just had one of the most painful procedures of the pre-war that was legal and are now planning to gallivant around the wasteland without recuperation.”

Stretching out my limbs; the mind of the obsidian mainframe huffed, activating one of the mirrors which doubled as a terminal screen, showing various science and medical jargon that I had limited understanding of, “This treatment was reserved for soldiers, not crazy midgets breaking into restricted facilities.” He explained a graph of my bio signals popped up on the screen, “You are lucky that you can endure such pain, all your size must have funnelled to that.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Oh, that a crack at my body?” I murmured, “Some of us make do with what we are.” What does he think I can do? Get a machine to increase my size through what; torture, or maybe use a cheat code to stretch my skeleton? The hand I was dealt with is my own problem to deal with.

Without much warning, the screen changed to his face, which was a damn shock, as I was naked and not in a life threatening situation, I stood there gawking at him. “Do you _mind?_ ” I all but hissed at him, my eyes leering into slits as a blush crept across my face.

He regarded me with amusement, “Winter, just think about this. You need rest, why are you fighting me on this? What reason could you possible conceive would account the possibility of personal injury?” He expressed his worry and doubt.

My face softened, I exhaled proceeded to cloth myself, “Bounce.” I stated simply, pulling my vault suit up my shoulders, zipping it closed. “If he was taken from here five years ago, then he might have a family.” I stated, pulling my boots on and lacing them up.

Cerberus regarded me coolly, “When I have examined him, he showed no signs of injury. Beyond his condition we remedied, at the most he is suffering from a case of minor malnutrition.”

Tying the last knot, I stood with a smile, flipping my hair out of my collar. “That is why, I am escorting him home.” I spoke with finality, exiting the bathroom.

“Very well…” Cerberus replied with a trace of exhaustion. Considering that I may have been one of his only conversations that didn’t involve swearing in the last two centuries that went quite well in my book. Exiting the bathroom, I explained to Bounce that I would be taking him home, where ever that was. He looked at me like I had given him Christmas, proceeding to hug me tight, nearly suffocating me with his enthusiasm. With everything done and gone, there was one thing left to ask Cerberus, which I planned to do when I finished packing up my pack.

Leaning against bed, I regarded Cerberus calmly, “Do you know who Celestine is?”

His eyes widened slightly, as if pondering the name. “She was a board member of the Bureau Mediation Consul.” Seeing my blank look, Cerberus sighed, producing a rendering of a seven pointed star with a smaller white star within, “A board of respected leaders and CEO’s of varying businesses that interacted within each bureau.”

Cogs whirred in my brain, “Soooo, like administration?”

“Yes, the B.M.C was essentially negotiators of each bureau on daily activities and the like. The middle men and woman who were more interested in running the bureaus working than actually becoming the top brass of each respective field, they were not at all the yes-men that plied for the Bureaus heads affection.” He explained, showing me a less than respective picture of politicians. “Originally they were more aligned with the Conglomerate of Progressive Board.”

My brow furrowed, I was not be that versed in history, however I knew a good chunk of knowledge from the pre-war. I knew that there were several unscrupulous companies that seemed to act in the interests of Australia, when in truth they were only looking to further their own goals with prospective businesses that operated below the adequacy of the Bureaus restriction. “That was not well received?”

He laughed an odd sound if I were to be honest. “There were hundreds if not thousands of petitions against them, legal cases that spanned years with actions being called for the disintegration of the businesses. In the last several months of the war, the board members were given life imprisonment until the wars end when the entirety of their crimes could be investigated.”

Nodding slightly, I checked the time on my Pip-Boy; 5:12pm. It would be dark soon, as much as I liked talking with the mainframe consciousness, I had to leave soon. “Cerberus… Is there anything I can do?” I asked, regarding the fact he had mentioned that the generators would soon power down, essentially turning him off. In all consciences, even if he was not alive in the convention sense, I wanted to hear his thoughts about his situation.

As I pondering the question of the universe, he smiled at me sadly, “I am not built to lie, to withhold information certainly, but not lie. When this complex powers down, I shall be wiped from the systems, a precautionary measure to prevent enemies of the nation from gaining important data.”

I blinked, “Does that mean you die?”

The green image of Cerberus let out a long winded sigh, “I am not alive. I never was, I ever will be. I am just a machine with programs created for a specific purpose. My consciousness is nothing but a freak side effect of code corrupting and mutating in a one in a billion chance.” He chuckled, “One in a trillion if we take into account that this complex survived the war and no one erased me within the first day of the apocalypse.”

My thoughts went to Lennon, she made the choice to not destroy him. Whether out of greed to save her son, or out of kindness, she unknowingly gave the Obsidian Mainframe a chance, no matter the odds, a chance that gave him thoughts and feelings. I walked out of the room, determined not to let that chance be for nothing.

Walking down the halls, Bounce at my side with a grin on his face as he walked- well bounced as he walked beside me as I made my way to the Mainframe. Sitting at the terminal bank, I surveyed the documents, manuals anything I could for instructions to do what was right.

“Winter, what are you hoping to achieve?” Cerberus asked above me, observing my calculated look.

“How much information can a Pip-Boy hold?” I asked, not looking up.

“The Pip-Boy can hold digital information exceeding the amount of Canberra’s libraries, essentially all digital information formats including but not limited to; music, images, recordings, files, notes, maps, locational points, marker pinpoints of buildings and persons across the continent and then some.” A young voice replied behind me. Turning around I glanced at Bounce, wondering how he knew that.

“I’m a genius.” He stated, going back to playing with a toy race car he had in his pocket.

“Compressed processed information; one of Robert House’s specialties, that and his… obsession with certain starlets.” Cerberus added offense clearly in his tone. “Are you suggesting that I leave with you?” he cocked an eyebrow, watching me as I withdrew my Pip-Boys connector cable and inserted it into the terminal port.

“Do you know how to do this?” I asked sheepishly, I didn’t trust myself to not accidentally delete him.

“Give me a moment,” Cerberus replied, as Bounce came to my side, sitting in a hair beside me, “I am changing the power requirements and diverting the power to the cargo lifts.”

Before I could ask, Bounce leaned in beside me, “To direct the Mr. Handy’s to bring all of the medical supplies and usable equipment to the embarkation room.” he looked up into Cerberus’s face, his big eyes shining, “To give to the people I live with, yes?”

That boy was so perceptive that I was sure he knew everything that was happening around him. Cerberus nodded, busying himself with directives and tracking the movements of the twenty or so Mr. Handy’s that littered that facility. It turned out that the cargo lift was behind on of the rooms full of medical equipment, which was why I never saw it during my perusing

Within an hour eighty percent of anything that didn’t need a generator to operate was loaded onto one of the cargo lifts, which was cycled into a secondary track, as it was evident this was how Cerberus wanted us to exit. He gave me free reign of the medical supplies and food that was stored and now loaded onto the second track. Guilty, I took most of the butterscotch candies, along with several days’ worth of food. Cerberus had insisted, constantly and frequently that I take something for my pain, which involved several bottles of Iron Man strength tablets for my muscles and a small box of science equipment.

Clearly, I was too nervous to mess with his mainframe; Bounce did the work and correctly transferred Cerberus’s consciousness onto my Pip-Boy. Truthfully, I will miss looking at his face as he talked.

“This is… roomier than the mainframe.” He remarked as Bounce and I started the cargo lift and made our way to the surface.

“Hm?”

“The endless space within this device, it is if…” he trailed off, leaving me wondering what he was talking about.

“The sky.” Bounce chirped, literally rolling his head from side to side as the access hatch split above us and stopped us in the garage. Everything looked the same, as if no one had entered in the eight hours I was below. Stepping off the metal grating, the hatch slide back together as one, activating the lift as it sped back down to the cargo bay. Cerberus directed me to lock the terminal that popped out of the floor when the cargo lift descended below ground, he had supplied Bounce with the code promising that it would open for him; he just wanted to prevent vagrants and raiders getting to the supplies.

We left the facility, in a moment of sheer spontaneity; the two males decided that as good my intentions were, I needed to put on some armour. Neither of us thought it a good idea, but without any other choice, I reluctantly pulled on a set of bloody arm or that we pried of a corpse of a raider near the back of the compound. Gagging as we attempted to wash out the smell of rotting flesh, Bounce reassured me that his home in the settlement he lived in had at least some traders and tanners that would gladly make me something when we got there.

I just had to not think about the blood all over me. Nor the fact some of the raiders skin had stuck to the worked leather in the shoulder straps that peeled off with sticky gore. Shifting my shoulder, hoping I wasn’t dumb enough to spike myself in the face with the shoulder spikes as I tied a scarf around my face, cutting out the stink. At least Bounce was nice enough to carry my duffel bag.

Over the next hour, we walked down a faded track that connected to streets between two paddocks. One of the paddocks had several skeletons of four-legged creatures with lithe bones, which made me think that horses had once occupied it before the war.

For a moment among the dead grass below a blackened tree, I wondered where my sisters went, if they had found any civilisation in this devastated land. Of course, I was not expecting a hundred people with clean clothing and delightful mannerisms. I just hoped desperately that out there- somewhere there were other people in small gathering of houses or old buildings. Living as in a community as people, not as monsters, raiders or slavers to get by.

With a long winded sigh, I stood, stretching out as I looked down and found that Bounce was snoozing on the ground. I raised an eyebrow, shifting the duffle bag to sling on his back and with great difficulty; I hoisted him onto my back. I was lucky the kid was so light at his age, or maybe the surgery had helped me become stronger. Slowly I slugged along, slowly but surely I marched up the rise and down the road to the right, following Bounce’s directions.

Huffing all the way, I was thankful that I made it to the skeletal remains of a barely standing willow tree and propped Bounce down against the tree. Leaning down I brushed Bounce’s hair into his eyes, covering them from the sun, knowing the rusted car beside us provided little shade. Stretching out, I turned around as I heard a low growl from behind me.

Before me was a trio of dogs, their bodies contorted up into a stance that meant I was their next meal. Two darted forward, snapping at my heels, drawing me away from Bounce as I drew my ten mil, I targeted their skulls. Two shots, they fell lick a sack of cow dung. Turning quickly, I darted in front of the leader of the trio, unable to shoot as I wasn’t willing to hit Bounce; I jammed my leg in the mongrels jaw. Pushing the barrel against its head, I pulled the trigger.

It jammed.

With a snarl that almost sounded like it was laughing, the dog bounded away from me as I attempted to pistol whip it. Missing, the oversized dog pinned me against the willow, scratching at my skin, drawing blood, I drew the only other weapon I could reach. Crimson Chance roared with ferocity bordering on thunder as the single shot tore through the beast’s skull- severing it from its body. The body contorted against me, splashing blood over my armour as it fell to the ground.

I stood there panting, my heart racing a mile a second as Crimson fell against my hip. I leant against the tree, looking down at the dogs bodies, feeling remorse as I killed something that reminded me so much of home.

“Winter look out!” Cerberus yelled, breaking me from my stupor from leaning against the tree as something huge slammed into the dirt beside me- looking down I saw a rusted engine of a small vehicle half sunk into the dirt beside me. Looking up, I gasped as a titan of a woman came at me from nowhere. I was trapped between a wreck and the tree, if I moved, she would hit Bounce, and at her size- she would snap his spine with one hand. A shot from nowhere struck the tree as she raised her fist back, a distant crack not unlike the sound of a sniper rifle severed the already precarious position of the willow, falling towards the car.

Bounce darted under the tree, as frightened as an animal as for some ungodly reason he could sleep through gunfire. While he hid I pushed myself off the ground and over it in a roll, landing on my feet. Dropping my pack, I grabbed my Crimson and leapt onto the tree, ran along the trunk onto the car she was preoccupied looking for Bounce.

She seemed genuinely surprised as I held the gun at her.

With fury in her eyes, she surveyed me, leering at my armour. Sweeping her arm, she knocked me back, giving one hell of a smack that sent me flying off the car and into a pile of brambles. Fighting my way out, I screamed at her, ignoring the searing agony of having a being punched with a damn gauntlet of spikes along her knuckles.

Clutching my bleeding thigh, I rose, defiant as ever to let her harm Bounce. Using a bandage, I quickly wrapped my injured thigh, hissing at the gaping hole in my flesh. I had plenty of holes; I didn’t need to add any more. Standing with a shaking leg, I stared at the titan, her honey eyes burning lances of pure hate at me for keeping her from her prey. With a near inhuman roar, she charged and struck out at me.

By God, she was nearly as fast as I was!

Dodging her blows, she splintered and destroyed anything she came in contact with. Rocks turned to gravel, the car tore under her fists and the tree gave groan that sounded as if metal were crushing against metal as she kicked out and broke it in half. I was scared and impressed. Yes the tree was rotted and dead, but anyone with this type of strength was a danger, she could crush my head in her hand like an orange.

Managing to get with me with her damn fists again, winding me and adding another three large holes into my gut, this wouldn’t stop bleeding. Collapsing to the ground, I saw Bounce had a gash on his head and was unconscious under the car. I spat out blood, looking up at her through a curtain of hair. “I-is that all you have?” I challenged, standing as I felt my eyes swim from blood loss. I moved in front of Bounce as she regarded me, the poor boy still hidden.

She sneered, which oddly sent a wave of pain through my head. Trauma, god knows my bones would be broken if it wasn’t for Cerberus. Breathing heavily, I forced myself to stay awake, I had to. If I died, this monster of a human could kill Bounce; she could do anything to him. For all I knew, she could be part of the Red Belly’s or some other moronic cannibalistic torturing scum that roamed the wastes. I lost count how many times she hit me, how many times I heard her strike my flesh, as being hit jarred my brain. I swear I cracked my head against the tree or the car. With what energy I had, I pulled myself up into what could be called a lazy standing position, as the car was doing all the work.

“If you think,” I started, coughing up blood, I wiped it from my lips as my eyes slid into a menacing scowl, “That I will let you hurt this child you are mistaken. Because if you lay a hand on him,” raising Crimson I grinned at her, pushing all my arrogance and anger into each word as she raised a fist back, “ _I swear that I will destroy you!_ ” I roared in her face.

In a thousand scenarios, I would have never foreseen this; she let her hand fall to her side. Stepping forward, her eyes narrowed as she looked me over with a scrutinising look. I was feeling incredibly numb as she leaned in and realised that Bounce was not harmed in any way, aside from the gash she had caused.

I was noticing that my eyesight was blackening around the edges, “Damn you raider.” I hissed through clenched teeth, my legs shaking as I clutched the car for support.

“I’m not the raider here.” She stated in a methodical voice, she spoke to me.

I cried out in frustration as my body collapsed under my own weight, the injured leg off to my side as my good leg kept my standing. “How the hell am I a raider!?” I screamed, “I haven’t hurt Bounce and you were the one who punched me! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you attack every good Samaritan out here?” I argued realising that I was shaking and was incredibly light headed.

As if it was obvious, she nodded to Bounce who was slowly awakening, “You did not harm him.”

“No, I didn’t.” I closed my eyes, the light hurting too much, “I helped him actually, from the complex about two or so kilometres from here.”

Her eyes widened at that. The new information seeping into her brain. Looking at her, I could see myself in her irises. I looked like a raider… go figure. I knew that, but she couldn’t argue that she didn’t look the same; she had leather belts strapped over her legs and arms, leather that encompassed her body very well and what looked like were helmets were used as a breast plate. “Ugh… I shouldn’t have gotten out of that bed…” I murmured as I watched the woman talk to Bounce under the car.

Noticing me, Bounce went wide-eyed, wriggling out from under the car he bounded to my side. “Ambi…” he frowned as the woman-who-looked-like-a-raider-but-was-not-a-raider placed a large hand on his shoulder, talking to him. My hearing was fluttering in and out as they spoke for what seemed like hours, as I collapsed to the ground, my nose bumping my Pip-Boy.

“Damn it Winter, what did I say?” Cerberus remarked as my eyes started to close, an unmedical sleep fighting fiercely to take me in its embrace.

“You said, watch out…” I coughed, hearing gravel crunch near my head.

“Bone, we have to get her to Memorial!” Bounce cried out in worry, his lighter steps near my head.

I felt strong arms slink under my body, lifting me up easily and held against something very warm, “Dump her things in the car boot,” she replied as I felt the sway of movement, then a gentle hand against my head, stroking my hair.

“I’ll run ahead!” Bounce called, already a good deal in front of wherever this ‘Bone’ person was taking me.

“Just don’t die.” I heard her whisper as everything faded into a whisper of black silence.

 

 

* * *

_Footnote: Level up!_

_**New perk:** Comprehension – Gain one additional Skill point when reading Skill Books._

_**Surgeries:** _

_Soldier Enhancement Surgery : An overlay of a nifty organic carbon fiber has merged with your very bones has given you a DT +1 and added strength to your body._

_Muscle improvement surgery : Chemicals have been injected into your muscles to improve your mass and strength._

_Soldiers Eyesight : Due to the harshness of outside vault sunlight, you are thinking that having your eyes protected from the rays is a good idea. You are right of course, which is why you are 30% more resistant to bright lights and flash bangs. This of course does not stop you from wearing your googles._

_**Companion Perk:** A long as Cerberus is your companion~_

_Hacker: Odd as it may be you have befriended a machine consciousness, you are still unsure whether or not he is an artificial intelligence. Cerberus grants a 50% chance to bypass skills in his field of expertise. He grants you greater ability for hacking, unlocking terminals and electrical locks, not excluding his unique ability to investigate digital hardware, essentially ‘riding’ the data lines in search of problems he can fix._

_S.P.E.C.I.A.L note: Strength +2_


	8. Chapter Six: The Titan of Memorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambs finds a settlement that somewhat has stability and offers so much and encounters her attacker with surprising clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated, no matter the content. However I do enjoy constructive criticism and honest opinions.
> 
> Fallout (c) Bethesda  
> Fallout: Forgotten Lands to me  
> Any characters that are similar to another autor's/artist/etcetera are coincidental unless in reference.

**Chapter Six:** The Titan of Memorial

_“It means everything, friendship means everything to me.”_

 

Breath.

I was breathing.

That was a sure sign that I was alive.

My world had felt as if it was ending, within that one moment of darkness when my head cracked against the rotted tree trunk or rusted car. My mind was shot and muddied from the trauma, not mention the multiple times that I was hit by that titan of a woman. I tried in vain to open my eyes, which felt as though they were held down by lead weights. Cracking one open with a surprising amount of effort, I blinked slowly, clearing it.

Slowly, I repeated the process with my other eye.

“So you’re awake.” A soft voice whispered next to me, nearly causing me to kick out and fall into the small space between the wall and the bed. Looking to my right I saw who the voice belonged to; a person whom I couldn’t tell whether they were a man or a woman. Curiously, I studied their effeminate face and pixyish body, nothing truly clear if they were male or female as their choice of attire consisted of boots, leather pants and an oversized poncho. As if knowing my thoughts they gave me an understanding look.

Holding a thin hand to their chest, they gave me a gentle, yet calm smile, “Male.”

I raised an eyebrow, sheepishly looking down seeing I was yet again near naked, bandages wrapped around my chest and thigh, “I’m sorry.” I murmured, not too sure why I was apologizing at all. Was it for my absent clothing or that I was unsure what his gender was.

With a laugh that rivaled Eri’s, he brushed his black hair back then gently cupped a hand under my chin, studying my eyes for a few moments. “No problem my dear,” he chimed happily, holding out a light pen, my eyes following the small pen as he studied me. “Hm, it seems that there is no sign of a concussion.” He released my face and slipped the pen away.

“Soooooo,” I asked, looking around me, taking note of the room I was in. It was a spacious bedroom filled with time aged, yet gingerly cared for furniture. Mind you, the furniture consisted of a single bed, a small dresser and a desk, making the room seem bigger. “I assume that I am not a prisoner?” I asked politely, with earnest.

The man, maybe doctor, gave me a grin that could set many women into a puddle of heart throbbing goo on the floor. I had an inkling that he acted like this with everyone he encountered. He tapped his cheek, “Well we save imprisoning for when you are better,” he flashed me a teasing look, “We like our prisoners to be healthy when we put them in _leather_.”

I hoped he was kidding.

I really hoped he was kidding.

“Aldwyn? Are you bothering our patient?” a stern voice from the doorway asked, which preceded a middle-aged woman with silvery hair.

The now named man swiveled around, seemingly pranced, (yes pranced) across the room to her side, “Ida, heellllloooo there. I was just entertaining our resident Jane Doe.”

Giving Aldwyn a quick slap to the back of the head, Ida strode over to my beside, promptly sitting her by my side and lifted my arm checking my pulse. For the next ten minutes she examined me, to Aldwyn’s delight he teased me about my less than normal height. Satisfied with my positive health, she released my arm and looked at me with aged eyes, eyes that have surely seen a lot of hardship and death in her lifetime.

“My dear, are you up to getting up and walking?”

“Can’t say, how long have I been out?” Really, I should have asked it sooner.

“36 hours 7 minutes and 23 seconds.” Cerberus answered from my ear bloom.

Looking down at my Pip-Boy; 27th of September 7:50AM, I smiled, “Thanks Cerberus, good to know that I passed out until I woke up at a good time,” I muttered under my breath, unsure that Ida may think l me crazy, or that I did have brain damage.

“You were lucky that Sleeve was not too busy when you were brought in.” Ida remarked.

Sleeve? I blinked, “I don’t understand, aren’t you the doctor?”

Ida seemed to glow with the complement; however her exterior was one of professionalism. “Yes, I am a certified doctor, studied under Doctor Shank in the Carnage Isles.” She seemed quite sad by that for whatever reason I couldn’t tell, “I supervised your care, Doctor Sleeve was the one who performed your healing.”

“Oh.”

“He had a little bit of trouble with his reach, however, that was easily remedied.”

At a loss of what she meant, I opted to being silent.

Stretching out my body, I stirred under the blanket and moved to stand up, as I heard footsteps outside the bedroom. This prompted Ida to scream thinly veiled profanity at Aldwyn who had come back with an armful of various objects, none of which was medically related, at least not in the conventional sense. After shutting the door in his face, promising many an hour of pain. I was hoping Ida’s idea of pain wasn’t too insane as Aldwyn seemed to be just a good humored fellow. Ida gave me a somewhat worn set of clothing; a pair of boy shorts, a singlet and a pair of soft leather boots, apologizing that they had nothing else in my size. She also explained that my armor was being repaired by one of the traders in town.

 

That raised a most valid point, where was I?

***        ***        ***

Once I was suitably dressed, as suitable was my clothing was. Frankly, life in the vault was making me feel extremely exposed wearing these loose shorts and breezy singlet. I followed Ida through a similarly decorated house; I exited into the local of Memorial, as Ida informed me.

Memorial as it turned out, was a settlement built around a memorial statue of a pre-war heroine.

The village itself was a cult-de-sac of houses surrounded by a ring of purposely dumped debris; mainly consisting of pre-war cars, concrete rubble and metal rebar. The majority of the houses in the cult-de-sac were divided into apartments, meaning a family may live in one bedroom; they shared all other spaces in the house with other families. Ida informed that though a family may live in one bedroom, many if not all the houses in the cult-de-sac were quite spacious, thus letting many live comfortably.

Looking out into the street I saw that though the tar-mac had been degraded by time, it had been removed for gardens, and a well. I saw many people, relatively happy and smiling as they made their way around Memorial’s streets. I observed that one of the houses, the one I had been treated in was one of the smallest in the street was the Mayor’s office-slash-medical centre.

Ida gave me the general tour of everything, explaining everything from the school, to the crop cycle and to the fact the well was in need of a new covering because something called Brahmin kept smacking their heads inside for water and keep collapsing the rigged bucket and pulley system. “How is Memorial defended?” I asked, noting that there were guards around on the ground, but I couldn’t see anyone else off the ground. Surely dangers from a distance were a problem?

She smiled and led me around to the back of the mayoral medical centre behind the building was rubble, rebar and wrecks stacked against the back of the house, preventing anyone from running from one side of the house to the other. Up on the back of the house in an elevated platform on the roof was a guard- who gave Ida and a curt nod as he kept watch. Ida explained that though their wall was effective, the best thing was to keep maintenance up on the structure of the roofs to prevent cave in so their town was at an advantage on all sides.

As we made our way around the village, we passed a home that was turned into an inn that doubled as a general store. Oddly I found that interesting as I had yet to see what equated as friendly environment of living for a multitude of people or group- as the Red Belly Blacks were a terrible example of community living. The house was a brick affair, with a paled metal roof, a mutual style in pre-war Australia, beside the corrugated roofing and panelled walls more common in rural areas. Upon the roof was a sign presumably the name of the establishment; Gecko Walkers Inn and General Store, painted in the traditional dot art style of the native Aboriginals was a colourful gecko trailing footprints.

Ida continued through as I paused by the door, glancing into the window at the numerous metal signs held in the mishmash of frames:

_Home cooked meals, beds and pleasant company._

_Try our famous Gecko steaks and yams!_

_We deliver from the Carnage Isles up north, to the Salt Plains out west, the eastern coasts and Blue Oil range._

_Extra costs apply to travel past the Salt Plains and Kerang in the south._

_Special offers now available!_  

Somewhat amused by the friendless of the sign, I entered the store, glancing around the front room. The front room contained little beyond a couch against the far wall, a coffee table and counter. Behind the counter was a man counting caps and checking a clipboard.

“Ida?” I asked cautiously, as the man, who looked a bit grumpy at being interrupted, nodded his head at one of the two doors that lead out of the room. I thanked him, walking over to the door on the left that lad into a spacious living room- that was turned into something of a store. Wall to wall, there were goods crammed into together neatly. The wall was covered in merchandise held up on hooks on display and held in netting in bundles. I walked among the shelving towards the partially obscured counter in the back, looking at the items as I passed by.

When I reached the counter I back peddled against the closest shelf, knocking a straw hat off as I saw …something behind the counter. Placing the hat back on the shelf, I approached the counter cautiously, wary of who- what stood behind it talking to Ida. Admittedly, at first glance I was thrown off as to what I was looking at. Before me was a bipedal man with russet skin, patches of his skin were a mismatch of streaks and splotches of a darker skin tone. When I glanced at his face, my eyes widened as I saw that _his_ eyes were a muddy brown, however his similarity to human ended there when I saw that his pupil was a slit- not unlike a gecko’s. Cautiously I approached the counter, at Ida’s amusement; she waved me over to her side.

“H-hello?” I spoke softly, unsure if I was asking a question of what he was. That seemed to humour him, as he let out a laugh. This did not comfort me, not at all, but I wasn’t one to judge another based on what or who they were, “I’m new in town…”

“This is Adin, he runs this store and Gecko Walker’s deliveries,” Gaining endless mirth from this, Ida gestured to me with a free hand, “Adin, this is Ambi Winter, the one who brought Bounce back from the facility.” With that, Adin’s eyes widened. He horse vaulted over the counter in a flash and gathered me into his arms, holding me close he swung me from side to side letting out a soft hissing sound.

He placed me down, joy in his eyes, “Thank you for bringing my son back.”

Son? He mustn’t have known about Weatherly, which made sense. I smiled back, quite taken with the lizard man’s smile, which reached his high cheek bones, “Uh… no problem.” I was awkward with strangers hugging me, let alone a strange man I don’t know.

He walked back behind the counter and proceeded to rummage through several boxes, chucking random objects onto the counter as he went; a sowing kit, leather, rivets? Ida chuckled and shook her head, “Adin will be a while, no doubt coming up with something to repay you,” I tried to object, but neither of them would hear a word edgewise, so I grumbled as I followed Ida towards the dining room.

The expansive dining room as it turns out had been turned into what appeared to be a café and bar of sorts, most likely the inn part of the Gecko Walkers. Ida sat us near one of the far walls beside a hallway and a door- the hallway lead to several bedrooms and a bathroom, while the door lead to the kitchen. We chatted to me briefly as we, well, as she waited for someone and I waited for her. Of course she wouldn’t tell me who we were waiting for, so I busied myself with watching the people outside and examining the various signs hung near the kitchen door:

_Cash and credit accepted,_

_Can’t pay?_

_Try our working debt repayment plans._

I was somewhat interested to know what their debt repayment plans entitled. Various forms of unpaid labour I guessed. However, as Adin did not seem hostile or out of his mind, I assumed he was not an asshole when assigning work as repayment. For a good twenty minutes we sat around, had something to eat as a late breakfast- I ate two tangy steaks and chugged a Nuka-Cola like my life depended on it. What could I say, I was famished and had steak available.

Ida waited patiently for me as I ate then offered to take me to see the rest of Memorial as Adin busied himself with my ‘surprise’ I shrugged and wandered aside Ida as she lead me around the back of Gecko Walker’s Inn I pondered about Adin’s appearance.

“Ida, what is Adin?” I asked, before I realised what my mouth was saying.

The older woman gave me a smirk, “He’s a man dear.”

I wrinkle my nose, “I know that!” I replied hotly, “I mean, how is he a lizard-man?”

Raising an eyebrow at me, Ida smiled softly, “He doesn’t talk about his past too often. I estimate that he either came across a Chaos bloom or was very unlucky.”

“Unlucky?” I wondered aloud, wondering what a Chaos Bloom was.

“Luck may just be a randomised attempt at probability; however luck may have nothing to do with how unfortunate you are. Adin is one of the best sharpshooters around, yet he was unfortunate enough to get trapped in a pre-war facility.”

My nose wrinkled; did she mean a facility like the 2400 military recruitment centre? Were there other facilities that catered to darker things other than enhancing soldiers or repairing civilians damaged bodies? My thoughts drifted to that woman that had nearly killed me, Bone. Was she a project participant, or was she just grossly gifted in the physical department. My thoughts were interrupted as we turned a corner to fenced area that took up the backyard of Gecko Walker’s. It was a pen, for cattle I presumed, as the shape and make was similar, albeit rustic and primitive compared to the holding pens from my vault.

I followed Ida past the burlap sacks and metal drums by the entrance; into the pen and nearly screamed at what I saw. There were… creatures, creatures with two heads. Quadruped animals with bloated bellies that nearly dragged upon the ground as they moved about, chewing on the yellow brown, lifeless grass. My eyes wide, I looked from the gross distortion of cows and looked to Ida, demanding why these cows were so deformed with their leathery hide and facial horns.

Without a word, Ida regarded me, “Ah, yes. These are Brahmin dear.” She replied calmly, not missing a beat as she pet the closest one.

I shirked back as its secondary head stared at me, “These are not Brahmin!” I nearly shouted as the image of brown soft pelted cows danced in my head, with their peach fuzz skin. Glancing at me, Ida raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what I meant.

“Yes, you are from a vault, all these animals must be a shock to you,” she walked towards a set of old benches against the back wall. I leant against a stack of barrels, trying to cope with the mutated cows before me. “They were originally less coarse and mutated long ago; mind you this was when they had fewer horns and were called Clows.”

My head snapped up, “Cows.” I stated.

“Cows?” Ida raised an eyebrow, regarding the Brahmin, “No, Clows.”

I nearly hit my head against the wall in frustration. “These… Brahmin, they were called Cows before the war, in fact they still are called cows from where I came from.”

Ida’s eyes danced with interest, her posture remained one of dignity, “Cows? Really?”

“Yup, heard they have one head too,” a masculine voice said behind me. Turning my head I saw a man of approximately thirty years, poking his head out from the window beside me, holding his hand out to me he gave me a grin, “Name’s Daniel Black, was in my room when I heard some women arguin’ right above my head. Wouldn’t have bothered me, that is, if I wasn’t takin’ a nap.”

I gave him a smile and gestured to the Brahmin, “Cows, where did you see one?” I asked, purely interested in this man’s experience with a pre-war animal that wasn’t now a mutated beast that either looked malnourished, a deathly walking corpse or was trying to eat me.

“Well,” Daniel tapped his chin, scratching the light stubble, “I saw a Brahmin about’ five years ago that was born with one head and her hide was better formed, softer even than any other Brahmin I had ever seen.”

“Surely you jest Daniel, one headed Brahmin are a myth.” Ida smirked, clearly familiar with the story.

“Not at all. Fine little Brahmin, some nut decided to use her as part of a freak show exhibit down in Tan-Worth.” Daniel concluded with a yawn, “Still buy some milk when I’m down there, best milk I’ve ever tasted in my travels.”

Eyeing the man with a cautious eye, I shrugged. “I still say they are cows.”

Both Ida and Daniel looked at me, infuriately Daniel burst out laughing, “You sure are a set minded kid aren’t ya?” he laughed, shaking his head.

“You are very set about what a Brahmin is.” Ida concluded, “A cow may now be a Brahmin, that doesn’t change that it was a cow earlier in its evolution from mutation.”

“No, I mean that even with being mutated, a cow is still a cow.” I gestured my hands at the both of them, “Are you saying that humans that weren’t in vaults are mutated and aren’t humans anymore? If so, you are definitely wrong.”

Ida seemed to ponder on this as Daniel smirked at me, and threw an arm around me, “Kid, I like how you think.” I shifted away and gasped as Daniel fell out the window into the trough under the window- soaking his clothing and moulding against his well-defined body. He let out a bark of a laugh, whipping his wet hair out of his eyes, “Got some problem with me kid?” he snickered, wholeheartedly as Ida tended to the Brahmin.

“Sorry,” I replied, a blush reddening my ears as I braced him as he pulled himself up- dripping water over me as his shook his head, water droplets splattering everything within reach. “H-hey, watch it! Are you part dog or something?!”

Daniel grinned at me, a ferocious smile of trickery, “Well, I have been known to pant after a bitch or two.” He purred. My jaw dropped as I flustered to not think about him romancing some random woman, as Ida went into mother mode and slapped the back of Daniel’s head, splattering droplets everywhere again. “Ow!” Daniel complained, cupping the back of his head.

“Daniel, we do not swear around the young!” Ida demanded, applying another slap to the tall man’s head, “I know where you live, don’t make me apply the _protocol_ to you.” She threatened, as Daniel’s eyes dilated.

“Ow- damn it-” ‘Slap!’ “For the sake of my brain, stop smackin’ my head!” Daniel protested, battering away Ida’s swift slaps to his head, “I’ll stop okay? I won’t swear around women and kids!” Satisfied, if not temporarily with Daniel’s answer, Ida left him alone and turned to me, eyeing me as I followed her out of the pen, leaving Daniel to grumble under his breath.

“Ida, I am curious, where are my things?” I asked, shutting the pen gate behind me, following her over the dug up road.

As we were walking towards a brick house on the opposite side of the street she nodded to the house, “We are retrieving them now.”

***        ***        ***

My eye’s balked as I studied the room around me; deconstructed weapons lay upon multiple benches, half assembled armour plates sitting on boxes, dozens upon dozens of spools of thread held up on a long bar attached to the wall above a desk covered in several neatly labelled beakers. A series of cabinets lined one wall beside a bunk bed that was covered in sheets of schematics of weapons and armour.

I glanced up at the occupants in the room; a woman close to my age was at the desk fiddling with the chemistry set, comparing the various chemicals in the multitude of beakers before her. Several feet behind her on the floor, a small brown haired man of similar features was fiddling with a leather shoulder guard, stitching the leather together. Neither of them looked up at me as I stood there, Ida hanging back behind me talking to another occupant of the building who wore a curious barding made of knives.

The man was first to talk to me, “Good to see you up.”

“Better than seeing her down and dead.” The woman remarked icily, not turning to look at me as a chemical in the beaker she was holding fizzed slightly.

“If I knew any better, I would say you are jealous sister dear.” The boy smirked, snipping the excess thread and tied it securely, setting the piece down. The brother stood, stretching out his legs, placing the leather shoulder guard on one of the benches and turned to regard me. “Hm, Bounce was right, you are small.”

A pang of angst hit my heart as I remained blank as this boy examined me, “Well, I could say the same for you.” This was true, as he was 5’5 short for a male if not slight below the average height

The girl snickered, “Oh, ouch. Guess that even at the age of 19 there are still woman who can kick your ass.” she grinned devilishly, setting the beakers down and slid a pair of leather goggles up onto her brow. “I’m Copper Light and this mass of diminutive maleness is Davin.” Seeing my confusion she shrugged, “Around here, between the age of five and ten, you can change your name if you want to. It’s a right of growing up.”

“Yes, she chose copper light and I kept my name that I was born with.” Davin sneered, “As I was not being called that God awful name she forcibly nicknamed me.” He brushed himself of and offered me a seat at one of the benches as he stood back against another bench.

Copper Light snorted her short copper toned hair swaying as she shook her head, “Well, you shouldn’t have slept in a cupboard all the time. It was your fault to be called Nook.” Davin looked physical exhausted by the mention of the childhood nickname.

“God, I have told you this before, the cupboard was warmer than the bed, smaller space and my body heat wasn’t wasted.” He raved, ignoring that I was there.

“Oh, Mr sweater-pants thought he was so great, just because you were tiny enough to sleep in a box under the stairs.”

“God, stop sniffing your chemicals you drugo, don’t you know anything about science?” he chided as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. I see he was referring to how body heat leeching out of large spaces, at least I was thinking that he was referring to.

“My possessions?” I asked, timidly wondering why these siblings were working in the same place if they flew of the handle like this at the simple appearance of someone shorter than them. “Ida said you had my belongings?”

The siblings, still squabbling stopped and looked at me; seemingly the idea of a new client was enough to stop their fight. Davin sat back as he watched Copper Light busy herself around me, explaining what she had done with my weapons as she hoists a large roll-out weapon carrier onto one of the benches, aside my pack and duffel bag.

“I am well aware that you may be selling some of these to merchants,” Copper Light twittered, her apple green eyes shining, “However, I as the greatest repairer in all of Memorial,” Davin scoffed at this, “Have repaired them all at no cost for you!” She seemed so full of glee at this, while her brother was so appalled at the mere thought of not getting a single cap. I viewed all of my weapons, thoroughly repaired and gleaming in the light that filtered through the boarded up window. I let out a happy squeal as Copper Light handed me a fully complete Electrified Net-Gun.

Stroking the barrel of the make-shift weapon, I grinned; “I shall call you Hecate.”

Davin shrugged, while his sister smirked, “Should have called her Jessie.”

Laughing, I shook my head as I watched as Copper Light lashed my perfectly repaired weapons in a bundle. “Nope, not a mercenary.”

Admittedly, I found it amusing that the young woman before me was awfully excited over my weapons, even though they were mostly common armaments that were scattered around the wasteland. I guess that in her line of work she just had a serious fascination with weapons of all kinds- no matter the grade or rarity. I watched on as Copper Light beamed at me, awaiting some sort of battering trade with me, clearly desiring my weapons. Frankly, she seemed too pleased to be touching the guns, as if she had more pleasure from guns than from people.

I wonder how she would feel about Cerberus.

After gaining a more than fair deal- mostly on my skills of persuasion and Copper’s clear desire to visually molest the weapons now in her possession, as her brother shooed her out of the room. Leaning against one of the benches, Davin laid out what seemed to be a repaired Vault-Tec jumpsuit and a series of armour plates with leather straps. Looking from the suit to Davin, my mind clicked- this was my jumpsuit, washed and mended. Taking the suit into my hands, I examined the fabric and stitching, clean, reinforced and repaired.

Eyeing the fabric, I smiled, “I see that you strengthened the neck.”

Davin laughed, prodding the gold line of my vault suit, “This makes an excellent target for sharpshooters or any wasteland asshole trying to kill you.”

Nodding, I understood the logic of that.

“You may think my sister was working out of generosity, or catering to her whim of mechanics,” he sighed, moving to a bench tinkering with a random piece of armour plating. “In realistic standards, she was repaying the debt of Bounce. You brought the kid back.”

Blinking, I felt my brow rise, “Hey, I wasn’t looking for handouts.”

The short man laughed, shaking his head as he hammered a riveted plate into a slot of leather armour, “You mightn’t have been looking for it, nonetheless people out here pay their debts as soon as they can.” Examining Davin’s expression, I blinked, unsure if I wanted to delve into wasteland fiscally and debt collecting. With that we kept quiet for a while, Davin repairing and creating armour and I scouring my bag for unwanted tools to trade to him. Stars knew that I didn’t need them, carrying an extra set with me would be a pain.

He was happy to take them of my hands for a couple meals and board worth of caps.

Setting any trade worthy goods at the top of my pack, I snapped the top closed and sat down beside Davin in the unused chair. Leaning back, I fiddled with my Pip-Boy, switching the knob through the various stations, noting that there was a few that I hadn’t bothered looking at yet. Several were random repeat signals from various points in the wasteland offering jobs, two were broadcasts from relaying signals that were absolutely sadistic; the first seemed to be a raider news station that was extremely adamant about their views on death, gore and sodomy, while the other… was a repeating signal of death from the end of war.

 _“This Mary Kae, Dingo Unit, Second Reserve, Morale officer and trained medic,”_ a soft, feminine voice resounded through the room, Davin ignoring or too engrossed in his work to notice. _“My brother has ingested water from the river that runs through Moree as we were making our way inland. He has ingested vast amounts of radiation, entering the last stage of radiation sickness and we are now in the old broadcasting station. The hospital has turned us away as the influx of refugees has left them with little-to nothing to treat him. If any a kind soul does hear this, please help him. Message repeats…”_

“That message has been on repeat for close 200 hundred years…” frowning, I glanced at the man, watching him remove his glasses and rub his tired eyes, “No one gives a fuck about them. Hell most would sooner pass by or loot their skeletons than spare a glance.”

I frowned deeper, the mere thought an affront to me. I knew that it was a case of survival, that many people had heard the broadcast their whole lives. A cautious tale of being smarter when faced against the odds, that no matter what you fight for, you can fail easily. I was inclined to believe that it was a constant reminder of their ancestor’s folly, their leader’s failure to protect their nation. As harsh as it was, the ultimate failure to prevent war that would destroy the world they sought to save.

Seeing my frown, Davin gave me a sad stoic smile, “The wasteland is full of assholes, I’m sure I’m included in that mark.” He tapped my Pip-Boy, cycling to Chandelier of Stars broadcast, watching my eyes glisten, as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as Mary’s voice broke mid-way about her brother’s illness. Unsure of how to reply, I moved my elbows over my knees and held my chin in my hands as a pre-war song already near the end, arose singing softly in the background;

_“How must I walk this line again?_

_The truth becoming a blur, as I see the light die away._

_As the stars align in the path of pain._

_Colours raise high in the sky, with blood we pay.”_

This was a song I had learned in my childhood, as music class was one I excelled at even with my disabilities and stature. Slowly, with tears blooming in my eyes, I mouthed the words, crying like a lonely child as the ambiance in the room of grief and sadness, exemplifying the serious burden of the wars escalation.

_“How could I forget what we fought for?_

_Please, tell me how I can end this fury._

_Tell me how many we have to farewell before the closure of this war._

_How to walk the hollows of our cities so merry.”_

Surprising me, Davin had begun to sing the accompanying male voice, “On the boulevard of broken dreams. I have run out of luck, and life is not all it seems.”

_“My hope is beside you on the field of war._

_My love, my heart, wears the tragedy you face._

_I regret that I can do no more._

_For that scrape of humanity, that last shred, that trace…”_

_“Oh, why must I face this onslaught alone?_

“Is there is nothing to end this clash? For this war, I have fought to make right? No way to end this ceaseless fighting in a flash? Is there nothing I can do, to help, no direction, no guiding light?” he sang with clarity and conviction, bringing me to tears.

“Is there nothing to end this fight?” I whispered mirroring Cadence, my heart breaking as she sang so beautifully, I desired the moment to last forever- knowing the time of fruition was a point in the war that may have been turned around, if anyone- if someone saw what was going to happen if the conflict did not end.

“That was vocalist Jane ‘Cadence’ Lynette, singing about experiences during wartime, her hit ‘ _Battlefield Overture; Perseverance of my heart and soul_ ’.” Aegis Eyrie stated softly, his honey voice running through me like a kick to the head, “Like many others, her heart was in the war beside the soldiers that fought for our country. Well folks, we may have a lesson on our hands, keep fighting for what you believe in, fight the good fight like old Churchill said; keep calm and carry on.”

Davin gave me a knowing look as I wiped my eyes.

“Seems one little lady- Ranger has been making her way around the old recruitment base south-west of Gathering water. She graciously stopped an insane robot from butchering random waste landers foolhardy enough to disregard my warnings and freedom for a captive in one heroic action of selflessness.” He purred, my face heating up from his flattery, “If this keeps up, I think this Ranger will have a new fan.”

Davin eyed me, raising an eyebrow as I stared at him with a scathing look, just daring him to say something. It wasn’t my fault Aegis had it in for me, he had the facts wrong. What was his problem? Did he just get his information second hand from ill-informed travellers or does he watch everyone through cameras? Whatever his motivation was, I could either use his praise to my advantage or condemn it.

“The forecast for today is poison clouds everywhere, raiders running amuck and some fractional bloodshed outside Gathering Water by the caravan trade routes.” Aegis detailed, as if this was nothing new, “Col’s is offering new guard posts along the highway at the cost of the consumer for a small fee for setup, while some independent contractors are offering to take caravan’s for a marginally smaller fee. My bet, if I were a betting man,” I rolled my eyes at this, “Is that these contractors may be less than adequate in protecting, more into the raiding, so keep those eyes open and guns loaded with an open ear if you decided a cheap price is worth your life.”

Davin snickered while brushing back his hair, “It’s so damn funny that there are women out in the wasteland who swoon over this guy.”

My cheeks grew rosy; admittedly I liked Aegis’s voice, “I wouldn’t be lining up at his broadcasting station for time with him. I don’t even know what he looks like.” I laughed, closing my eyes. “As far as I know, he is a head in a jar hooked up to a microphone.”

Davin eyed me, an eyebrow slowly creeping up his forehead. The moment of silence between us stretched on endlessly as he suddenly shrugged and nickered, “Even then, woman would love the shit out of that velvet voice of his.”

“Yeah…” I nodded, the sheer implication of someone falling love with someone without ever seeing them. That was borderline insanity at work if anything. It did give me pause, as there were plenty of children and unusual shift workers in my home Vault that adored Melanie before they met her. Perhaps it was a possibility that I would meet the man behind the voice in time.

“Now it is time for lovely Amity Grace, _Ah, Ascend_ , a beloved hymn to those who still stride athwart the wasteland. A classical voice of the old world, in the old art of opera, a beautiful art lost to the ages. Bear in mind listeners, I have no such blessing in possessing an original in Latin or Italian, naturally English will have to suffice.”

_“Ascending Grace,_

_Ah, does the angel fear flight._

_Cascading ceiling an eyeless void,_

_The sky fabricated of mirrors and diamonds when the sees a plight._

_The sun shining through the rise of the demons shadow,_

_When the sun glows,_

_Raising higher and higher,_

_To the freedom we seek and know.”_

***        ***        ***

Bone-Break.

That was her name, evidently her game too, by what I had experienced.

After leaving Davin to his tinkering, I had left the building with my equipment. I had run into her in front of Gecko’s Walkers, resulting in me bumping into a large wall-like muscle mass, staring up at her 6’5 frame. She proceeded to stare back at me, with a look of contemplation while my instincts told me to run out of her reach. Frankly, I contemplated stunning her with Hecate at the thought of another punch to my gut, potentially murdering my ovaries- not that I had an interest in breeding any time soon.

“Sorry.” She grunted, which sounded like a rumble that would send some running. It caused me to shift back an inch or so.

Blinking, I tilted my head at her, pulling the duffel bag closer against my side. “For what?” What did she have to be sorry for? She was doing what was obviously her duty as a guard of Memorial, protecting one of her own against a potential threat- albeit, a supposed threat that was really an a person of goodwill who was trying to escort a tired child home.

“For punching you to pulp.” She replied, almost angry at my sheer brush off attempt.

“Let’s face the facts; I was dressed as a raider, was standing over a child of your village that your could see, covered in blood that could have been his own.” I stated, watching her eyes constrict at my words. Clearly her priority at my well-being was a vendetta that she must atone for. “You had every right to punch me into submission.”

Bowing her head slightly forward, she picked me up by the scruff of my suit and raised me to her height, her other hand braced against my back- preventing me from choking. “You are incredibly foolish. Walking around in raider armour, in the open, covered in blood.” Her amber eyes narrowed, almost canine-like, she snarled, setting me down, “I could have killed you, yet you talk to me as an equal, as someone you can trust.” Bone-Break turned her head, in shame, or anger that hinted that she had been treated as a monster by others before.

Blinking, I smiled softly. “You are human, we all make mistakes right? Just try and be better, try to repay a debt.” I opened the door to Gecko Walkers and nodded at her, “Just hope that your mistakes can be forgiven, knowing that what you do will never be enough in comparison. You can spend every second living in regret, or you can at least try to make things right. You can hope everything you do when your life ends can dampen what immoralities you have done.”

I heard her heavy steps behind me, “Some things cannot be so easily forgiven little vault dweller.”

“That is true,” I conceded, “Some things are so taboo, that to forgive something so ghastly is wrong.” I turned my head, spun around and looked up into her eyes, “That is what you are hoping I will say, correct?” I gave her the smallest of smiles, “Well, tough. I am not asking for a debt, nor am I asking for you to blow out your brains to repay me for some superfluous case of honour.”

Eyeing me with a look of incomprehension, Bone-Break just stared at me, her amber eyes widening slightly. Was that pity in her eyes? Disgust at my blatant flippant attitude? “You are something else,” she shook her head, “Just, phenomenal…” she murmured, following me further into the store area of the building.

When we approached the counter Adin looked up with a wide smile, beckoning me over. “Ambi, it is good to see you,” he gestured to the pile of leather, thread, needles and clothe before him, “I regret, this will not be ready soon.” He shrugged, “I have seemed to have misplaced my rivet gun and I will have to wait until I get another.”

Bone-Break shifted from side to side, clearly amused by the situation, “Adin, you do know that Copper Light borrowed it last week right?”

The reptilian man blinked, then slowly smiled, rubbing the back of his head, “Ah, yes. That would explain why she said she would return my tool kit. I was wondering why I was missing half my screwdrivers, a drill, a toy rocket glow-stick and fission batteries… and my schematics for a fission powered drill.”

What? What did she do with such a thing? My thoughts drifted around, trying to ascertain what the hell someone would do with a rocket glow-stick, fission batteries, a drill and a set of schematics?

Bone-Break raised an eyebrow, as a curious look crossed her face as she …blushed? What could make such a stoic woman blush like that?

“Adin, I sold a complete tool kit to Davin,” I continued, ignoring the woman beside me, who had turned red from ear to ear to jaw. “I’m sure he’ll get Copper Rail to give yours back.” I glanced around the store, then down to my Pip-Boy’s chrono metre. It was barely past ten in the morning. “Hey Adin, would Ida be at the clinic? I have some information that I think would help Memorial.”

He looked pensive for a moment, and then nodded with a smile. “She should be there; she keeps a regular schedule, so she would be there until lunch.” I bid him goodbye and promised to visit him once again when Bounce was sure to be around. We made our way over to the clinic-slash-Mayor’s-office, knocking out of habit; I pushed the door open and entered into a makeshift lobby of sorts. After a short conversation with what I assumed was Ida’s clerical assistant, Bone-Break and I wandered several steps behind the woman to a closed door with a hanging sign labelled; Mayor’s Office, IN.

The clerical assistant left us be as I knocked on the door, hearing a clear ‘Enter’ we entered the room. Ida motioned us forward to two chairs as she removed her glasses for a moment, rubbing her eyes. She gave us the once over, looking at Bone, who looked back as if exchanging a silent conversation. The aged woman looked to me as I sat down; Bone deciding to lean against the wall to my left as the chair looked a bit low for her to sit comfortably. Whether or not that was from experience would be my best guess as her legs were quiet long, let alone her muscle mass might crush the chairs delicate yet robust frame. I turned to Ida; observing her dark eyes with the same curiosity she seemed to give me.

“So, have you got everything settled?” she asked with no amount of displeasure to being interrupted, in what was most likely a strict schedule. Ida did seem to adhere to time allotment as Vault-Tec seemed to have tailored for my vault. However, she showed great care for those who knew her and worked under her. The sign was proof that she did not mind interruption from her beloved village.

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality, and healing. Stars know that I would be dead if I hadn’t been traveling with Bounce.” I chuckled lightly, my demeanour softening for a moment, “On the note of repayment, I do have something for you. Resources that could help this community from someone who looked after Bounce so long ago,” I explained, going through my Pip-Boy, selecting the security code for the mechanical platform in the Military Recruitment centre’s garage. Taking a scrap of blank paper from my pack, I wrote the code down and handed it to Ida.

She regarded the code with cool eyes, blinked and looked up at me, “This is a code for a security terminal? What terminal would need this?”

Time to drop the bomb, “The 2400 Military Recruitment Centre.” Wait for some outrage, add disbelief, a pinch of opposed horror, simmer and leave to cool indefinitely.

Both woman beside wore the same look; shock.

Bone was the first to speak, “You wish… to give us the passcode for a death maze?”

I huffed, “It is not a death maze… a raider death surgery and specimen collection room is more accurate description.” I eyed both women and sighed deeply. “I disabled the mainframe that ran the facility, no one who enters the facility will die,” I paused for a moment, “Not the above ground facility, who knows how many Protectotrons and Robobrain’s are gallivanting around the wasteland let alone the immediate area around the facility.”

Bone-Break twitched as she clenched and unclenched her hands, “How do you know it is disabled? You haven’t given any indication that you are technically skilled.”

Oh, great, she thinks that I am an idiot, “Ask Bounce. He understood the procedural terminal commands and jargon to keep the minimal power on a minimal level to retrieve the pre-war equipment for the betterment of his home.”

“What if you are lying!” she snarled, leering at me.

“Do I have anything to gain by lying about such a thing?!” I shot back; this woman was being stubborn. I glanced to Ida, indicating for help. Said woman was watching us with great interest, a small spark in her eyes.

“Our deaths! You could be leading all of us into some trap that will slaughter all of the inhabitants in this village,” Bone-Break growled, “I will not allow that situation to happen to those I live my life for and work with,” she yelled, “Not again, never again.” She whispered as an afterthought.

My brow softened, “What do you mean not again?”

Bone-Break gave me a hard look, eyes full of hate and venom, “I will not allow people around me to die from something preventable.” She looked as if she was barely keeping her rage in control; she shook as she stared at me.

Ida raised a hand, gesturing Bone to-Break to calm herself, “Louise-”

Bone-Break or Louise- whipped her head to Ida, stalking forward she planted her hands heavily on the desk; the wood creaking and cracking as she leaned forward, her amber eyes blazing in anger as she kept her face less than an inch away from her elder’s face, “That. Is. Not. My. Name.” she hissed through clenched teeth, “I am not her.”

Ida’s looked into the titan woman’s eyes sadly, “Very well… Bone-Break, Ms Winter has shown she is trustworthy. If she was only after her own interests, then why should she save a sickly child at all? What uncaring person would go through such torture for someone unknown? If she was so callous, could she not have used a raider instead of herself for Bounce’s much needed surgery and eventual freedom.”

“What sane person uses their body as a damn guineapig for pain?” Bone-Break countered, sneering, our conversation becoming between us, removing Ida from the bubble of our argument. “No sane person would sign up for torture.”

“Better I had let a raider be tortured, become a tougher psychopath to escape and do monstrous things to Bounce?” I shot back, my anger rising at the idea of using someone in such a way. For the sheer thought of giving a sadistic raider a stronger body to do unspeakable acts repulsed me.

Bone-Break wilted back, “That is not the same! They are monsters, vicious animals that need to be put down! Better to die than be a monster!”

I huffed, my displeasure rocketing as I tried to get me heart rate under control before I did something I would regret, “He needed the surgery, he would die without it. I was not going to give another pain that would in the end destroy both of them, I had to step in and become his shield for shelter against ill will and I did so without regret or reservation!”

The titan eyed me warily, “Would you shield him again? If such an action would mean you suffer, endless agony, death or worse? You would brazenly give your life for some random waste lander? Give help to someone that would kill you?” she whispered, as if she herself had felt such things. “Would you willingly aid an enemy because you feel the right to be so fucking insane?”

In that moment, I thought about everything had experienced so far outside my home. The raiders I refused to kill. The children slotted as food I vowed to rescue. The centuries long dead man who I had carried around as precious as water to bury. “In a heartbeat. If it means bringing a moment of solace to one person in this world of chaos and uncertainty, I would place myself between the stuff of nightmares; and rage unceasing war upon it until it is overcome or I turn to ashes and dust. If this world of dreary abominations and monsters wishes to take me to hell, I will take them all with me.”

Ida raised an eyebrow, as Bone-Break shook her shaggy hair, covering her eyes, “This is what I was telling you Ida,” she turned her head to the older bemused woman, “This- this vault born _child_ , is crazy! She is out of her mind! She has no idea what kind of hell is out in the wasteland!”

Ida sighed deeply, closing her eyes then opened the warm brown orbs and smiled at me, “We will investigate the 2400 Military Facility. Anything we retrieve will be used for the benefit of Memorial and our allied settlements.” Before I could ask, she handed me a sheet of paper, while rummaging in her desk drawers, “Long ago, as it was style at the time, several wastelanders founded settlements together as they scouted the early wasteland. These are our sister settlements founded long ago. We maintain good ties and trading, we supply them fresh food and water, they supply any other trade goods we cannot find.” She explained before handing me a small package and a see-through plastic zip-lock bag with an audio recorder inside. “If you head to Col’s, take this to Silver, he’ll give you work if you are interested.”

Thinking for a moment, I took the package and bag slipping both into my pack beside me; I eyed the military duffel bag. “Ida, do you have a shovel I could borrow?”

***        ***        ***

Scrape.

The grave hadn’t been hard to find.

Scrape.

Buried below the twisted remains of the weeping willow; a skeletal note above a broken family.

Scrape.

It made me depressed that a symbol of how much someone cared about the deceased below was tarnished; the tombstone was more worn from graffiti and gunshots than from more than two hundred years of natural wear and tear of the elements and time. The epitaphs for the mother and child were not legible at all.

Thunk.

A hollow sound, an object of solidity with a cavity inside, I had tapped against something firm under the soil. I stood tall in the hole I had dug, cracking my limbs and stretching the muscles as I moved back and used he shovel as gingerly as I could to remove more dirt away from what lay below. After several minutes, I had exposed the aged lacquer wood coffin of Daniel and his mother. Knowing what I faced, I had removed the bandana (Ida insisted I use) around my neck and drew it up to cover my mouth as I pried the coffin open after so long been sealed below dirt, dead grass, gravel and ash.

A plume of age refined dust and skin flakes gushed from the coffin, into my thankfully covered face. Predictably, a coffin is not always air tight as when buried the coffin may buckle open under the feet of dirt above compressing down, the air reeking out of the soil. They had both turned to bones over time, clothing protected from the harsh weather above ground, draped around their bodies in near tatters. As son and mother, they were forever wrapped in an embrace of death, a tender mockery of their living lives. Between them, a small mouldy bear laid, its glass eyes gleaming in the afternoon light.

With a deep sigh behind me, Bone-Break moved closer to the holes edge; holding a shovel in her hand. Bending to the ground, she handed me the duffel bag, “You should have asked for help,” the amber eyed woman reminded me, once again, as she had for the last two hours every ten minutes, “You are quite small, such an activity is strenuous for you.”

Glancing up at her, I lowered duffel down and with the best of my ability I laid Jack down to rest beside his wife, “My muscles have been fatigued.” I simply replied. My muscles had become weary over the 36 hours I was unconscious, I needed to get used to the added strength had gained from Cerberus; who had been quite most of the time since I awoke this morning. I stood tall, stretching my back, looking own at the family bellow me, I wondered if they were at ease.

Religion was a concept I did not have any particular confidence in. It was hard to have hope or faith when I had seen terrible examples of humanity in my early years of life, when no one would step in to stop something unlawful right in front of them. No, I had no faith in a being called God. The irony being that it was common in my vault to use an admirable historical figure or symbol in blaspheme. That is what Stars and Majesties meant. At least that is what I was told; I believed it was just the belief in regard to certain symbolism. The Stars, the symbol of the Southern Cross was faith in our country and the Majesties; even when our guidance from the extinguished commonwealth of the pre-war was being led by a fool of a prime minister.

Bone-Break sighed, watching me as I pondered, held out her hand, taking it; she easily lifted me up out of the hole. Setting me down, she gripped both of the shovels, one in each hand and started to systematically move the large mound of dirt into the hole. She was efficient, I would give her that, though it bothered me that she was so invested in me, just because she had nearly killed me. She wasn’t at fault, just doing her duty to those she cared for.

I stood to her side, watching as she worked; I fiddled with my Pip-Boy.

“Have you decided where to go next?” Cerberus inquired, breaking my line of thought.

Ah, so now he talks, “To wherever my sisters and Gaspar went. Considering that I have been sleeping for a little while, I should catch up to them. Or at least attempt to follow their trail.” I chuckled, “What have you been doing Cerberus? Sleeping too?”

The artificial intelligence- or whatever he considered himself, sighed, “I have been reading if you must know.”

“Reading? My Pip-Boy, I take it?” I replied, amused for some unknown reason.

Pip-Boys, like all technology, every piece is different. Interestingly there are imprints of previous owners of this device, buried deep there are snippets of files.”

I raised an eyebrow, “So notes of previous owners are buried in my Pip-Boy?” I asked, wondering what on earth was left from another life. The head Pip-Boy technician, a grizzled old man with agoraphobia, was pretty thorough in his work; he wiped all Pip-Boys clean after the death of the wearer, albeit he did pass on certain files to various people. Health notes to Medical, personal notes and photos to family or friends and anything related to their work ethic to their position before they passed away. The Pip-Boy Technician wasn’t lazy by all means; there shouldn’t have be anything on there that wasn’t related to the programming of the device. Thus, whatever was on my Pip-Boy had to have been added to it after my tenth birthday.

“Yes, there seem to be several related to a recently added file from five days ago. One file is buried deep in code that requires some sort of password, dated… about seven years ago.” He replied, as merry as ever about files and programming. Hopefully, he would not get bored from sifting through my meagre amount of files, notes, photos and songs.

“Seven years?” I had no idea what that file contained, nor what it meant. However I assumed that the recent files he was referring to were the files attached to Belle’s Pip-Boy tag were from her Pip-Boy. As it was, I hadn’t had time to listen to the remaining audio files. Sighing, I noticed Bone-Break had filled the hole and was now; out of courtesy was gathering the remnants of our work together, leaving the grave neat. Neat as it could be in the wasteland.

As I looked over the full grave, I felt a sense of… peace. As if Jack himself, was grateful to be at rest beside his loved ones- to be reunited with his long forgotten family. I smiled for a moment, pleased at the feeling of accomplishment from digging the hole, which turned into a biter frown, “Do you think he is at rest?”

“Perhaps he has found the peace he sought at the worlds end,” Bone-Break replied, her voice a low hum.

“Perhaps, perhaps he has.” I sighed, what was with Bone and her open ended answers? As the wind picked up, the skeletal willows branches rattled- hollow and fragile shards clacking against each other. She glanced at me, her shaggy brunette locks dancing in the breeze. Nodding behind me, Bone-Break hoisted the shovels easily in one hand as we returned to Ida and prepared to make our leave.

***        ***        ***

By mid-afternoon, I sat by the mounted rail gate reading one of my accrued books as I waited for Bone-Break to arrive. It had taken half-an-hour of preparation; from trading my remaining non-essential items to Adin, oddly he gave me an old soldier’s hat- the felt was soft and dutifully cared for, while picking up some supplies for the road. I had no idea what road that would be, nor how long it would be, I welcomed Bone-Breaks companionship. I was very surprised when the two guards I met by the gate was a pair of twins so identical that they finished each other’s sentences when I asked if there was a schedule for rotary night shift or confinement after dark in act.

My questions were met with friendly banter, which surely must have been a common event for the guards, as many travellers passed through the gates at a steady pace.

Sitting against an old water barrel I yawned, covering my mouth and rubbing my eyes from boredom as the sound of Brahmin and wheels grew closer.

Glancing back at my book, _Don’t Panic V. II_ , I pondered why anyone would carry a guide for survival that had vague guidelines and nonsensical organisationally settings in chapter layouts. I was quite surprised that one of the pre-war apocalyptic scenarios in the later chapters had a picture of a lizard-man that looked similar to Adin- explaining the importance of situational awareness in the event of getting lost in the wilderness.

“Little lady,” a smooth voice purred, as a shadow crossed in front of the sun, shielding my book, “Hope I see you again sometime.”

Looking up, tossing my hair from my eyes, “Daniel, I thank you for preventing the harsh sun from scouring my skin, you, are however blocking my light.” I stated, my carefree grin meeting his Cheshire edifice. He held out his hand- taking it, it dwarfed my own as he easily pulled me to my feet.

“Heck,” his ebony eyes gleamed in the shadow of his face, his frame hiding me from the sun above us, “Just wanted to say goodbye to the local hero.” His grin broke even wider than before, teeth as white as sun bleached hair greeting me as his eyes slid upwards to my head; eyeing my newly acquired hat.

Raising an eyebrow I smiled at the devilishly handsome itinerant trader; crossing my arms I stared him down. “Is that any way to talk to a local hero? I am so wounded.” I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes at his Brahmin, which had decided that the road was a best place to relief itself.

The dark haired man mock gasped, taking my hands he bent down and held them to his forehead, “Dear hero, how could I ever let you doubt me?” he lowered my hands, giving me the most debonair smile that a I had ever thought a man could possess, “How can I obtain a better place in your good side my glorious Ranger of the wastes?”

Giving him a smile that I rarely threw around outside of my circle of friends and family, I gently tapped his forehead, “Don’t be a fool, a man with desires for a debt of fiction, is a man who should be watching his wares.”

“A dog can pant little lady, a dog can pant,” with a carefree laugh, he withdrew his hands, brushing his hair back, “You have good sense for a fresh vaultie.” He commented offhand, which I bristled at; it was a valid point however he didn’t have to poke fun at my struggles in a frightening new world full of bizarre drongos and psychotic raiders.

“She’s too young for your games Black,” Bone-Break called from down the roadside, a sturdy pack strapped to her back.

Daniel harrumphed, his cheery eyes, turning black as pitch as the gargantuan woman stood slightly in front of me, directing the black haired womanizer’s attention at her. He looked at his Brahmin, which were sifting through their own faeces for anything they didn’t digest. The two guards, Lachlan and Keynes smirked at Daniels luck as he had to shovel the faeces into a container by the roadside, as Brahmin taking a dump on the road wasn’t unusual occurrence. Bone-Break didn’t smile, yet the mirth was evident in her eyes as she watched with glee as Daniel complete the reeking task. Daniel returned her glee with calm smirk and passive-aggressive joking as he climbed onto his cart, signalling Lachlan and Keyes to let him through- as his Brahmin swatted their tails, a clump of refuse flung from one of the two and hit Bone-Break in the face- right between her amber eyes.

“A-ah…” I stammered, reaching into my pocket for a bottle of dirty water and a cloth, handing them to Bone-Break- she graciously accepted. We walked as she cleaned her face, I could see a vein on her temple throb in time with the beat of the sun while we crossed the gates threshold into the unprotected area outside Memorial. She smiled carefully when we passed Lachlan and Keyes, as she watched Daniels cart get further and further along the crumbled street.

“Ten caps,” Keyes stated behind me, amusement in his voice.

I felt an eyebrow rise, what did he mean by that?

Did I have to compensate some sort of toll?

“Five caps that it hits,” Lachlan replied (the arrogant twin), ignoring my staring as he looked past me, his eyes narrowing.

Keyes snorted, as if hitting the target was that hard, “Five, if it goes past the gulley,”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw my companion raise her arm back, her body rolling with muscles as she flipped her arm forward; the plastic bottle in her hand sailing out of her grip towards Daniel- who was a speck at the street corner… and hit him on the head. The bottle bounced off him harmlessly, he seemed to laugh and wave good naturedly at Bone-Break and myself.

The two guards had begun arguing over whether or not the bottle travelling over a dead lawn and not down the aged asphalt in a straight line counted or not. By this time Bone-Break had turned back to me, the vaguest of smiles on her lips as she tilted her head towards the road, to get moving again. I easily kept up with her long strides, as short as I was, my natural endurance keeping me balanced as I looked up at her. “How far was that?”

Her eyes crinkled shut for a moment, “Must have been just below hundred metres,” she looked pensive and sighed, “I could have done better.”

I blinked slowly, looking up at her, “And… that was not good?” I couldn’t see what was so terrible, she threw a lightweight bottle- something that easily would have been knocked around in wind, if there was any and however she was upset over distance.

She shook her head as we walked, “I can throw much further than that. I threw about twenty-eight percent of what I can usually do. ”

I stopped for a second, pausing by a small pothole, pondering how far Bone-Break could throw. Heavens above knew I couldn’t throw any further than the next person- most likely less than the next person due to my shrimpyness. If she was annoyed by throwing a hundred metres, then by comparison- I quickly did the math and shook my head. She could throw three hundred metres on a good day. Not that I didn’t believe her, but that was truly a show of inhuman strength if what she was saying was accurate.

Glancing at me from the corner of her eye, she gave me a small smile.

She was screwing with me, no normal human could throw that far, nor be that accurate. I furrowed my brow once again; Bone-Break had shown she wasn’t any normal human…

***        ***        ***

We had travelled down the main roadway through Moree for several hours, during which Bone-Break had informed that it would have taken no more than an hour or so to reach Gathering water. I had considerably tripled the time as I insisted we evaluate every available structure for anything worthwhile. In the end, it proved a profitable notion because we had emptied half-a-dozen houses of salvageable items, an abandoned warehouse of some tools and ammunition from an erratic Protectotron. The low point was when we quelled an uprising of something that appeared to be a cross between several insects hanging around an overgrown garden.

When I put some of the gelatinous innards, stingers and flaky wings in my pack, my Pip-Boy infuriately labelled it ‘Honey-beefly’. Sometimes I really hated the vagueness of technology; I mean what was the prophetic capability of such a device made two hundred years before the world blew up.

By nightfall, Bone-Break had informed me that we were entering the territory of the Nine Iron gangers as we passed the soggy golf course metres below the cracked sidewalk. Glancing down the sloped hills past a battered sign, labelling it as the first hole, I saw half-a-dozen men and women hitting small eyeball sized balls across the ground. “Are they trouble?”

“Nine irons. They don’t bother anyone who doesn’t bother them,” Bone-Break remarked as we made our way further into the dilapidated and wreckage of Moree, towards the settlement of Gathering Water, “Most gangers are good people who mean no harm, just trying to survive.”

The logic was sound, thus I had to agree. I had fought against raiders on multiple accounts, mutated animals and Bone-Break herself to survive. A thought occurred to me, “How many gangs are-” I was cut short as passing by an old car lot; I felt my neck prickle, as if something was watching me. Turning I was grazed by a bullet against my left cheek, raising my ten mil as I ducked behind a nearby bin my Pip-Boy pinged, naming the local as _‘Fortification Car lot’_.

“Raiders.” Bone-break growled, her hair seeming to bristle as she protected her massive bulk behind a wreck of an old Highwayman in front of me.

I bit my lip as I checked my I.F.F, seeing at least half a dozen red markers on the other side of the car lot. Pip-Boys didn’ give any information on distance of a target when within such a close range; however the upside was at least we knew the direction. Formulating a plan, I holstered my gun and grinned, “Bone-Break, how are you with being a distraction?”

The older woman considered my plan, she moved then wrapped a hand around a metal pole that was once part of a chained barrier and wrenched it free; cement and dirt spilling from the bottom. She glanced though a hole in the Highwayman’s rusted body, watching the raiders that were wandering too close for comfort.

“Where’d they go?” a scathing voice snarled on the other side of the wreck, “Better come out now, better than if I find you.”

“Shut up,” another voice hissed, “Get the damned collars ready.”

Collars, why would raiders need collars for?

To keep someone captured for their sick games or maybe to eat, or something worse. I would have to ask what Bone-Break knew about this, when this situation was over and done with. Silently, I snuck around the back of the Highwayman, keeping low as Bone-Break drew her arm back, lopping the metal pole over the lot- hitting another car that I recognised as a Leo low-rider Cadillac. What was such a fancy car doing in a country town was beyond me, I thought as I passed two raiders perched by cars stacked one on top of the other- providing them a barricade as my tanned companion flung another pole into the lot. Causing the two raiders to scream death threats and start shooting at her.

My H.U.D showed that there were six red bars in the lot- no wait, it dropped down to five, accompanied by a scream and a squelching sound. Bone must have crushed one with her inhuman strength. Keeping my mind on the task at hand, I snuck behind one of the raiders and drew Hecate out. Taking aim at the raider, I fired, trapping him in the fine metal net that forced him to ground, snugly pinned under the weight. I glanced at him, checking to see if he could move and relieved him of his weapons; a half-decent cowboy repeater and a common kitchen knife that had seen a lot of wear and tear.

Checking my H.U.D for the third time, I was surprised that there were nine more bars- seven of them green, in the direction of the small squat building in the back of the lot. They must be non-hostiles… or prisoners. My mind reeled at the thought of another pre-school situation that I had to possibly deal with more barbaric cannibalism and drug addict raiders. I did not need another raider like Angel screaming at me, or chainsaw brandished at me. Slinking into the store lobby, I saw a relatively clean room with two side doors, several security cameras, a tattered couch and a front desk.

Before I had a chance to decide which door would lead me where- footsteps echoed to my left, I ducked behind the oval desk, hiding under the table top as I spied through a crack at the closed door.

It opened with a bang as a mangy haired man followed by a woman with my height yet much tubbier, walked into the lobby with a severely displeased look on his face, “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded; as I heard another scream from outside, followed by several guns shots, my H.U.D blinking down to three hostiles outside. Mangy drew an appalling looking SMG that looked as if it was painted with blood and surveyed the lot while taking cover behind the cement wall by the main door.

The woman’s eyebrows creased, her muddy green eyes showing worry as she went through the unopened door, “Keep an eye out Brutus, throw down some potatoes if you have to,” she commented as she disappeared out of view.

Brutus sneered, “Best idea since you got yourself shot by that fancee peddler.” Muttering as he took the woman’s suggestion literally and systematically set half-a-dozen mines about the entrance and lobby- which was problematic for Bone-Break as she was being pushed back into the store while Brutus was moving around the desk to ambush her. I moved as he did, keeping out of view until I systematically stayed hidden behind the outside of the desk taking a chance to break to the room with the green markers on my H.U.D as the mangy haired man turned his attention to the women returned, joining him in the lobby.

Opening the door and closing it behind me with a click, I sneaked into the hallway, spotting another security camera. Staying low, I observed the off shooting rooms; several tiny offices and a kitchen. All decidedly neat, considering that there was trash and dirt everywhere and gore free for a raiders nest, which was worrying. If these were not the usual kind of raiders, then what were they? Being pressed for time, instead of thoroughly checking each room for bits and pieces I could unravel the raider mystery. I followed my I.F.F markers on my H.U.D, my eyes shifting right and left, watching for any change in movement before me as I approached another closed door. The door was locked. Not a problem for my newly acquired screwdriver and bobby pins. A short moment or two, with a half bent bobby pin, I heard the click of the lock as the door opened.

Stashing my tool and hair accessory away, I frowned as I saw what lay within.

Seven men and women of varying ages and ethnicity were shackled to floor, metal pegs as thick as my wrist sunk deep into the bare cement. I looked them over, all were sunken eyed, malnourished and fearful of me, as if I would hurt them. “Are you hurt?” I asked looking from on to the next, for any injuries I could help with, though my medical skill was between poor to fair at best. A woman no older than twenty-five had radiation burns covering her lower forearms, shied away as I crouched besides her, looking over the shackles locked and bolted too tight around her wrists.

Looking the locks over, I realised that they were incredibly rusted and not cared for. If one of the other prisoners could easily unlock them if they possessed a bobby pin and length of wire. As I drew near, a man near the middle of the line was looking me over appraising my barding, his eyes flicking to my hat, “So… the new hero has decided to ‘save’ us?” he sneered, his filthy blonde hair brushing his cheek. Ignoring his rude disdain, I freed the woman, her grey eyes shining with gratitude as I offered her half a bottle of water and sterilised bandages for her wounds as I moved to the next prisoner in line.

A boy who looked to be my age with skin so pale it could mirror mine, shushed him, “Shut up, she’s getting us out of here away from these slaving bastards.” Dirty blonde kept his mouth shut, offering me his wrists for liberty.

My head whipped up, “Slavers? Not raiders?” I eyed the dirty haired man, realising that raiders would have been messier in their surroundings, and certainly not left their captives so intact. Hm, they would have been viler with Bone-Break, inciting verbal insults of rape, torture and her potential of being their food for the evening and beyond.

“Raider would have eaten us…” the woman whispered, “Slavers are worse in a different way.”

Thoughts raced through my head. Slaver, implying that they captured people to be their forced servants, in appalling conditions and work practices, thus meaning that as the wasteland was it wouldn’t be pretty. I became worried, wasting valuable seconds with talking when I should be freeing them, “Are there more slavers nearby?”

Dirty blonde shook his head, “All across the east of Australia, slaves are sent to one of three places; in New South Wales slaves are sent to Cast off Summit, Blackville and Wagga Wagga. The Townsville republic has half a dozen slaver trading posts, though Bane just has Gatton,” he looked to the women beside him and scoffed, “Only place in Victoria is Melbourne, Empiric bastards.”

She returned his look with unbridled anger, “At least they do not work slaves to death!”

“No better than the heartless bastards who ‘run’ Gatton!” he hissed back, his narrow eyes leering knives of anger at her.

I was unsure why he looked at her like that, was she from the Empire? If so, what was this Empire and why did they have slaves? “The lock is open,” I looked into the older man’s soulful eyes, he nodded to the boy. “Your brother?”

The boy laughed sourly, “Wouldn’t leave without me, and busted my last bobby when I got him unlocked,” he sighed, “Get me freed and I’ll help ya.”

Moving over to him, it took three bobby pins to pop the first lock free. He took several of my pins and my screwdriver, using his mouth and hand, freed him in two seconds flat. Blinking as I watched him as he easily unlocked the four other slaves in no time as I followed behind offering what medical help I could. Looking around, my H.U.D showed two hostiles left, and they were-

The door was flung open; Brutus and the muddy green eyed woman ran in, shoving the door closed behind them, both turning around spotting me. “Fucking bitch, who the fuck are you!?” Brutus screamed raising his SMG to bear, as I had rocked back rolling into a crouch and sprung up between them- sweeping my leg low, I caused the plump women to crash to the ground. The man was flung like a ragdoll across the room crashing into the wall by Bone-Break’s fists smashing through the door.

The woman herself was true to her title- a titan of anger and fury. She observed the room with disdain, the male slaver groaning against the far wall, smears of fresh blood splashed behind him. Her amber eyes narrowed on him, discounting him as a threat, her attention to the woman curled in a foetal position on the floor. “Why?” She growled, her voice as rough as fire as she wrenched the mangy haired pile of filth from the wall, “Why do you do this?!”

“They were already dead,” Brutus stated, as if the fact would sway us that he was right, “They are all hits for Domino’s contracts…”

It was not an answer that pleased me, nor Bone-Break. I seethed in anger as I thought about such suffering and imprisonment. How can anyone dare condemn another to a life of slavery? Rage long forgotten boiled into my veins; I clenched my teeth and stared into Brutus pit-like eyes; Crimson Chance could put his head in my sights, one bullet to make the thoughts of monsters stop, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t end you.” I hissed, knowing I wouldn’t kill him; I couldn’t let the wasteland take me.

Bone-Break gripped his neck, pulling him up and slamming him against the wall, her other hand curled as a fist- covered in the blood of the slavers she had killed. “What. Is. Wrong. With. You?” She snarled, “I have stomped so many of your immorality, countless years, crushed under my boots and fists.”

Brutus eyes widened, fear rushing into his face as he choked up, “I haven’t sold anyone! I-” his blatant lie torn apart by his agonised scream as the pissed off woman popped his left arm out of its socket, leaving it dangling uselessly at his side.

“Don’t fucking lie.” She roared, pressing her bloodied fist against his face, dragging it along his face, leaving deep, bleeding gouges in his skin.

“Please, don’t kill Janna,” he sobbed, as he struggled to push my companion away, “we have a reason for this horrible life. Please don’t kill us!”

Raising Crimson Chance, I pressed the cold barrel against his head, “Is it worth it? Enslaving lives to the pits of hell, taking away what little anyone has in this world?” He looked down; I pressed my gun below his chin to look into my eyes as my height gave me no benefits in such a situation, “Tell me, do I have to kill every last scum on this earth that dares to take another’s life for greed and money?” I asked, my tone cold, devoid of any sympathy, his eyes widened as I pushed the barrel of my gun into his mouth, “If I _ever_ see you slaving again, I will not give you leeway,” I growled, hoping that my stature wasn’t a deterrent but a plus, “Any slaver that crosses my path, I will _destroy_ them if they do not heed my warning, spread the word that Ranger gives no second chances.”

“I will, I promise!” Brutus whimpered. I doubted he would disagree to such a demand otherwise.

Bone-Break snorted, eying me with pure disdain, “Both have slaved before. They stink of the decay.” She growled, her nostrils flaring.

How…? How could she smell something so faint? More questions than answers with that woman. I looked up into her eyes, both narrowed and existing as no more than pinpricks, despite the lack of light in the room. She was not going to let this go, if I didn’t find something to show that Janna and busted arm weren’t slaving for fun or profit- that he wasn’t lying through his teeth.

_Never give up._

I exhaled, closing my eyes I activated V.A.T.S giving me a moment to think. The first fact, Janna was the other slaver. Secondly they were both inexcusable in their actions; they weren’t demented as Raiders or as twisted as Pre-war relics. Finally, thirdly they had no reason to be such monsters, both looked competent. Their weapons weren’t falling apart and they both looked healthy, as healthy as anyone could be in the hellhole of Australia. He was staring at his slaver companion with wide eyes; turning my head to her, it was then that I noticed a spike of wood impaled in her neck, blood leaking from the wound soaking her shredded jacket.

I wasn’t heartless.

I could swear that the security camera in the far corner moved as I went to her side, examining her injury. It was just a shallow cut between her shoulder blade and jaw. Checking her, I briefly wondered if her status as a hostile had changed. Blinking in confusion, I noticed something strange on my H.U.D, “Bone-Break.” I motioned her over… she didn’t budge. I shook my head, my hair covering my eyes, “Bone-Break, use your senses, what can you smell?” I requested of her, motioning to the unconscious Janna.

To her credit, she didn’t dump Brutus on his ass; she hung him off a shelving bracket as she moved to my side and examined Janna. Her eyes showed a spark of recognition as she inhaled her breath near silent as she shook her head. Turning to Brutus, she pulled him off the bracket and popped his arm back in, then left the room in long strides- not before punching a sizable hole in the floor.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Brutus struggled to his feet, stumbling over to Janna. He looked at me, fear and thanks mixed into his eyes as I pushed a small variant of items into his arms, along with his SMG, “Go, keep her and her little one safe.” I whispered, he nodded pulling Janna gingerly to her feet and led her away.

***        ***        ***

It took little time for the slaves to be freed and treated; fortunately it turned out the boy with the lockpicking skills was a medic too. He took over my attempts with a smile, noting that while I wasn’t competent as a medic; my knowledge was decent enough considering everything that had gone on. I kept my gaze down, not looking into the eyes of some of the prisoners- they had looked at me as if I was an irregularity, worse than the slavers themselves for even daring to let them go. Within seconds of being free, four of them left, anger and disgust in their eyes as they passed by me. Blonde remarked that I was another bleeding heart vaulter- that I would die soon enough anyway. The soulful older man punched him in the face, forcing him to go unaided.

It turned out that Lockpick-slash-medical guy had the same birthday as me, his name was also as silly as mine; he was called Bethany. His brother, oddly named Jerimiah (go figure) was some sort of priest; they were both travelling from Casino out west to visit family. I could feel that there was more to it but I let sleeping dogs lie, wasn’t my business to ask them anyway. After we scoured the building for anything useful or remotely salvageable, they professed that they would stay with Bone-Break and I for the evening. I didn’t ask, but I was sure that Bone-Break dealt with looking over the dead slavers bodies for anything worthwhile and retrieved one of Hecate’s nets.

We sat by a metal bin we had brought inside to cook and keep ourselves warm from chill, as earlier the wind had picked up from nowhere as the clouds darkened. So, there was a high possibility for a rainy night. This, according to Jerimiah would be a good thing. I wonder when I would see rain. Logically it would be impossible in a vault, as the internal structure would have to be entirely different than my own and with the mandatory failsafe’s I didn’t know how rain inside would work.

I sighed, looking over at Bone-Break, who was repairing the salvage and anything she had damaged that she had taken from the slavers. She hadn’t talked to me since I had asked her to examine Janna. Surely she could understand why they had to go, that I couldn’t… I couldn’t kill an unborn child. Sighing again, I closed my eyes and rubbed my face. This would put a damper on our new friendship.

“Ambi?” Cerberus muttered into my ear.

I tapped my ear, “Cerberus I- wait… how are you talking to me?” I muttered, realising that my ear bloom had been in its receptacle since I had woken up this morning. No one else has heard him and I knew that I had turned my radio’s speaker off when I had snuck around the Highwayman. “Cerberus, how are you doing that?”

He chuckled, “When you were forced unconscious in the recruitment facility, the device that I used to sedate you uses a signal to ‘talk’ you telepathically,” he paused for a moment, “Well it is telepathic, however, it was proven in R and D of the technology that it was better for social compatibility if it was as if someone was talking to you directly.”

I frowned, “When were you going to tell me?” I murmured, “I must have looked like a crazy person the whole time I was talking to you.”

Cerberus didn’t speak for a few minutes, “I am sorry for such an inconvenience Ambi, I meant no harm to you. I truly believed that this benefitted you.” He voice was apologetic, his logic sound and absolute. However, I had been walking around the whole day talking to him, looking like a mental patient. Stars knew what Bone-Break thought about me.

“I was going to say something earlier, but your body chemistry distracted me when you were around that Daniel fellow.”

My face grew slightly hot as I thought about the trader with a friendly attitude and heart-warming smile. “He was just being polite; surely nothing is odd about that.” I whispered, trying not to talk to ‘myself’ as I was unsure if Bounce had told Bone-Break about Cerberus’s existence. Most likely not, as she was hostile to the mere thought of entering the place- she would probably tear my Pip-Boy off and burn it for safety.

Cerberus chuckled again, his warm voice a comfort to me, no matter how much I denied enjoying Daniel’s company.

“Miss Amb’s?”

“Hm?” Jerimiah’s calm voice broke me from my train of thought, “Yes, what is it?”

He smiled genuinely at me, pointing at my Pip-Boy, “That device can play the radio. May we listen to the news?”

“Of course,” how was I one to deny such entertainment, as we had exhausted every other current exploit to stave off boredom for the evening. I had already finished reading my copies of ‘ _Facets of Science_ ’ and ‘ _Proper Pronunciation of one’s Diction: Customs Edition_ ’ while administering my medicine. Flicking the radio on, the recognisable music of Amity Grace filled the room, her glorious voice pouring into my soul.

“That dear listeners, was Amity Grace, singing about our guidance from above in the wasteland,” Aegis Eyrie crooned, “Such a travesty that such assistance isn’t desired by the more rampaging of our brothers and sisters. Now, while I go perceive what news is around this fine evening, enjoy some fine instrumentalist art of Wilhelm.”

Slowly, music of a different kind than I had ever heard before filled the room. A melody composed of flowing water, unyielding and beautiful, shaping its form as if to please the listener to a comfort of sleep.

Jerimiah smirked, “Our father, he does not turn away our ailing brothers and sisters,” he looked pensively out the singular window in the office, “we walk along the path he has carved for us and we will follow with diligence and faith.”

A snort broke through the room, “The ‘Lord’ has never existed. He is just another lie for those who cannot save themselves.”

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Bone-Break cleaning the cowboy repeater, pulling back the bolt.

“Why say you, dear sister?” the eldest among us smiled chastely, accepting her comment with good humour and grace, “Why do you believe as you do?”

She laid the gleaming gun down; shifting her head up as the melody grew deeper and angrier, perfectly matching the hostility in Bone-Breaks eyes. “I refuse to have belief for a being that allowed the world to be as it is.”

Jerimiah shook his head, “We wronged his world, his paradise he made for us. Salvation is-”

“Salvation? Are you mad?!” She accused, gesturing to the room around us, “Do you think any God of honest heart would allow his children to suffer in such a way?”

Bethany downcast his eyes looking into the fire, “Perhaps she is right… What God would abandon us I such a way? We have suffered for near two centuries for our forefather’s sins, why should we suffer any longer.”

I did not believe in God, yet if was not right for someone else’s belief to be dragged through the dirt. I placed my hand on his shoulder giving him a squeeze, “If you cannot have faith in God, have faith in yourself that you can be a better person in this world.”

For a moment he smiled. It faded when he opened his eyes, “Faith. Faith and family is all I have.”

“That is all you need,” I whispered, “Faith in yourself.”

Seemingly, this conversation calmed everyone down to the point where we resumed polite conversation. Though, learning our lesson we kept away from touchy subjects; such as religion, slavery and how bad the roomed smelt. Late evening had come and gone, it was then that Jerimiah felt it would be best if we separated for the evening, he and his brother sleeping in the office nearby. Bone-Break and I settled down on the remanent of several seats that the slavers had disassembled on the floor for sleep. I looked to her through the flames, hoping that I can help here, try to make her pain less if I could.

“Bone-Break…” I sighed, watching the flames flicker, making shadows and bright patches of warm hues across the sharp angles of her face. “Do you want to talk about it?” I offered, shrugging, mentally face palming. Any more foolish gestures dear Ambi?

To my surprise, Bone-Break nodded her head.

With rapt attention, I leaned forward placing my elbows on my knees, better to get the hardest question out of the way, “Why did you take such,” I paused, searching for the word, “Offense at the conjecture of God?”

The brunette glanced up at my, her amber eyes like topaz jewels in the flicking light. Seconds past. Minutes passed. Then ten. She spoke on the nineteenth. “My objection is for having confidence in something non-existent when we are perfectly capable of having faith in ourselves and other living beings. I refuse to belief in hollow phrases written by scribes who in their old age wrote the scripture.”

Titling my head, I pondered on this. She knew more about the Bible than I thought. It may have been my ignorance of the outside world, however due to my mother’s insistence and oddly fanatical belief; I was familiar with the majority of the passages. “Did you ever believe in God?”

Oddly, this question surprised her.

“When I was young, foolish and getting drunk enough to dance with a broom,” she joked, “In truth, a long time ago, when I had someone to live for,” she muttered, her eyes downcast, “I promised to not let my rage get the best of me.” Rubbing her eyes, she tilted her head back, “Yet, recent days have proved that my rule is flawed.”

My neck itched as she looked at me sheepishly. “Ah, well, call it a free pass. I am a vaultie, fresh from the tomb after all.”

She looked at me, her eyes calculating and narrow. She looked away, shaking her head. “That heart of yours will get you killed someday.”

I laughed, uproariously and long, “Well, better keep an eye on me then.”

“How about I tranquiliser you and employ you as my personal merchant, that way you won’t get yourself shot at and bloodied up every day.” She replied, her tone dry and full of disdain.

Stretching out my legs I gave her a Cheshire smile.

She proceeded to swat me playfully with ball of trash.

“Turn on the radio, hey? Must be nearing nine, Chandelier always has news on until ten.” she requested, lengthening out her muscular legs, both reaching well past the bin. If I stretched my own out our feet could touch, however it would be too childish to do so. Flipping my radio on, we caught the end of Wilhelm’s reverie, the music pleasant in the firelight.

Ending on a soft tone, Aegis’s familiar deep voice rumbled, “Now listeners, she has been away from the microphone for a while now, on her own out and about the wasteland doing what she does best.”

I heard the sound of a chair scraping against a metal floor, “Hey listeners, its little ol’ me, the one the only, Astral!” a smooth voice crowed, full of exuberance, “I know that a lot of you have been wondering here I am, well folks, can’t tell ya’. My journalistic talents were at work for the past week and that’s all there is to the weekly agenda.”

“Quite.” Aegis agreed his voice level and controlled, oddly reminding me of a butler.

Astral snorted, “Yes, My Fancy Pants here hasn’t left the ‘office’ in a long time.”

“Well, you do know that the wasteland is an imposing place, so many incidences to report, and numerous locales to avoid.” Aegis replied, his tone playful yet stern.

“Well, I know the wasteland missed me, have some new scars to prove it.” Astral sighed, as some sheets- most likely the reports she mentioned before, “Reports are in kids, avoid Bane for a while, because a band of twenty strong Southern Cross Rangers are being absolute ass fu-” suddenly static cut Astral off midsentence.

Aegis chuckled, his rich voice reaffirming the station was working, “Oh dear, lost her for a second, let me see if Astral’s mike is working properly.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence; however it was clear the Aegis Eyrie was covering for Astral’s vulgarity. Most likely for the children listeners, saving some sort of comfort for the innocence in the wasteland.

“My dear compatriots, my ever lovely companion is once again by my side after this moment of technological difficulty.”

The woman’s boisterous voice crackles happily, “Yes wastelanders, dear Aegis has helped me with the mike… problem, “she snickered, “Now, back to the news. The Southern Cross Rangers have been spotted along the Ipswich highway outside Bane. Rumour is that they were chasing a group of vaulters.”

Aegis coughed, “It is highly probable that the SCR are after something the vaulters have or they ungraciously irritated them.”

“Eh,” Astral said, the sheer amount of ‘I don’t care about those bastards’ was easily noticed in her voice, “Two more points for the day listeners, stay away from Star Tears, that toxic waste has nothing good to offer. And make sure that any water ya’ scavenge or buy is filtered, as ya’ gotta’ keep that Rad count down.” The youthful DJ stated the station becoming white noise as it switched to a repeat of Jane Lynette’s Battlefield Overture.

Looking over the fire, I say Bone-Break slumped back asleep. For the moment, I closed my eyes going over my thoughts from the day. So far in my time and experience of the wasteland, I had suffered little compared to the lifetime of hurt the wastelanders had accumulated. Today I prevented seven people from becoming ensnared into a life of slavery. I held Crimson Chance in my hands, tracing the filigree. It came with a price, six people dead that I could have tried diplomacy. If only I had seen them first.

Would I ever find my family? What if I never did, what would I do then, would Bone-Break allow me to follow her, to make a living in the wasteland? There was nothing I could do, after all, I had been the cause for six slavers dying and freeing seven slaves. Perhaps I could hunt slavers. I snickered at that thought. As if anyone would fear me, a teenaged woman that was close to the size of a child. I didn’t have any practical skills beyond shooting and sneaking. Could I be so brazen to believe that I could sever the head of the beast of the wastes? That I, the sickly midget of my home could make the wasteland better?

Making my head hurt with lack of sleep, I was getting ahead of myself.

One step at a time Amb’s, one step at a time. I had no real goal beyond finding my sisters and Gasper; only a temporary job as a courier for Ida with Bone-Break as my guide. What would she do if I found my family, would she still follow me? Would she want to? If anything, Gasper, Belle and Clary would be allowed home. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that my unauthorised leaving of Vault 2400 would allow me to ever return home.

And truthfully, I believe that I am at ease with that eventuality.

 

 

* * *

 

_Footnote: Level up!_

_**New perk:** Scoundrel: (level one) – Got some fine silver words and tricks of the trade, +5 Speech skill increase and +5 Barter skill increase._

_**Faction:** Memorial (status- Friendlies); you have met this settlement and are close enough to share secrets about trade routes yet not close enough to be invited for sleep overs for more than three days at time._

_**Companion:** As long as Bone-Break is your companion~_

_Hit em up baby: This titan of a woman has vowed to stay by your side due to her accidental pummeling of you to custard. Bone-Break with her natural, or be it unnatural strength will give you a stronger stance against melee and unarmed attacks making you 50% resistant to them!_

_A shame your tiny body makes your limbs cripple twice as much if you are not careful, making this perk moot if you are not careful._


	9. Chapter Six: Labor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the assistance of a new companion, Ambs Winter is tasked with a delivery to a better developed trading hub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fan fiction by thetruecrystalvixen and beta’d Valetineluna.  
> ‘We fuel our fandom; we embrace the oddity and uniqueness with passion and elation.’
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters based on any real (living or not) have had their names changed for obvious reasons of protection.  
> Fallout (c) Bethesda

**Chapter Seven:** Labor

_“Another day, another dollar.”_

 

            Gouge.

 

That was the first thought I had when I saw the deep cavity in the tarmac.

By a dilapidated government building that held no more than coffee cups, broken furniture and rotted paper, I had sat down on the steps and stared down a ramshackle street towards the direction we were to go. Observing the view properly, I observed in the middle of the road was a deep gouge- some metres deep, the kind that would take a machine to make.

Admittedly, I had first thought that an industrial excavator had dug the trench before the world blew up. When I had been up higher on the steps, I saw that there was black scorching around the deeper end of the gouge. Looking around and not seeing a trace of a plane I had surmised that someone had probably dragged the remains off to do with as they please some many years earlier.

Sighing, I looked across the road to where my objective marker told me to go, to wherever this ‘Silver’ was. Trust a two century old device to point me towards somewhere bizarre, I would bet caps on it. As we walked around the corner across weed laden cracked asphalt, I was startled by what I saw. A huge building built on a small island surrounded by glowing green water, the island itself surrounded by a barrier of wrecked cars, multiple stacked one-upon-another. Noticeably, there was only one entrance into the compound and it was heavily guarded.

Even if the radioactive moat was a deterrent, as were the guards; the biggest deterrent would be that each corner of the building had a turret gun as tall as me perched upon it. Glancing at the entrance, a large red, faded lit-up sign drew my eyes; ‘Col’s’, I was sure it had been named something else at some point, due to the gap between ‘s’ and ‘I’ was large enough for one other character,

When I approached the bridge, I noticed that halfway along there were above a dozen or so people and their various animals (some were really odd looking, more so than a Brahmin) waiting in front of three armored guards each clad in combat armor.

“Must be the morning rush,” I muttered as I entered the line, taking up my wait by switching on one of the radio stations that I heard the night before.

“Ya all heard about the fights out west for water between the Warlords and Slaving rings?” the familiar voice of Astral chimed, “Well seems that somebody has been liberating slaves and ‘liberating’ water. There is talk that this unnamed, unspecified champion has been taking slaves to some promised land, to paradise as it were. Another rumor is that this hero of sorts was born and bred in the Warlord’s battle arena.” She laughed softly, “Well Liberator, if you are out and about in the wastes, drop me a line and we’ll have some beers.”

I smirked as Bone-Break and I approached the armed guards, relieved that it was finally our turn. It was getting tiresome standing in the rays of sun behind several smelly Brahmin. In my first days outside Vault Twenty-Four, I was quite taken with sunshine, yet Brahmin gave very little benefit of the outside world; they smelt worse than any animal should.

“Entrance fee,” a young man drawled as he aimlessly ignored me, instead he was using a ratty deck of cards to build a house on a well-worn fold-out table.

Curious as I was; I had to ask. “Why is there an entrance fee?”

 “Because we risk our lives to protect any that enter, we deal with whatever people bring to trade, the good the bad and on occasion the deadly combo of ugly and stupid.” One of the guards, who were leaning against the fence, joked. “Five caps a head, ten a Brahmin or Mu, groups of four pay eighteen,” seeing my look as I mouthed the word ‘Mu’, he shrugged, “Special offers, besides becoming a Prospector are available, check with Silver inside.”

The last guard, a woman who looked decades older than I who had surely had enough of inexperienced vault dwellers, started listing the usual rules of any ‘civilized’ place and sounded rather bored with doing so. “No stealing, no trespassing, no public fornication allowed. If you are in the Waters Fall the usual jibes are allowed, be reasonable and absolutely on no occasion no nakedness around them.” She saw my look of confusion on the last one; she sighed and rolled her muddy brown eyes. “If you run around naked, it might make some people think of you the wrong way or they may just believe you are inebriated and steal your possessions. It also offends some of our other patrons and the Father.”

I nodded; from the word ‘Father’, I assumed that there was some sort of religious group inside, hopefully they didn’t praise some unexploded bomb of something. I opened my mouth to ask what exactly a Mu was, when I noticed that the card player was staring at me. A really odd stare that then broke into a wide, cheeky grin.

“Oi Vanity, look at her, she’s that Vaultie from Astral’s program! Ranger!” he grinned wider and slapped the other man’s arm, “Told ya that Vince weren’t lying.” This was when the two started to talk in whispers to each other and traded a few caps between them.

I was quite unsure whether or not to hate Astral and Aegis now. I could see that I was giving people some joy and hope from the harm of raiders; but really what was at stake, other than my embarrassment and privacy? Oh, and the fact that I did not like getting attention and now people were going to call me Ranger wherever I want because of some damned radio program. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Bone-Break’s impassive glower aimed at the guards, she was not being at all helpful, so what was not to like about my situation.

Wait, backtrack.

Vincent? Did that mean he was still here? No, he would have left after a day or so, meaning I would have missed him by at least a day. He had said he was going to Tan-Worth, which would have taken him around six days to get there and even if he came back it would take another six days to Gathering Water. At least that was at least by what he had told me, Tan-Worth was approximately 200 kilometres away (as the crow flies), a small mountain with far and few settlements in between. I might have caught him if I had taken a direct route from Memorial, instead I had side tracked us with exploring.

My hair prickled, making me nervous. I looked up and noticed that the woman had joined the other two guards’ conversation as I zoned out into my thoughts. “We have no idea if she is someone we can trust, I mean what if she is just another whacked up idjit trying to pull the wool over our eyes?”

The older man glanced at me, his bright green eyes leering, “She’s right, that girl maybe wearing that hat, but what does that tell?” turning to the woman, he whispered something into her ear; she then walked off into the dilapidated car park behind them.

“Hey Vanity, get me a bottle of Roseman’s Blue would ya?” the youngest guard hollered after her.

“Get it yourself you ass! And my name isn’t Vanity!” She yelled back as she slipped inside Col’s. The older guard chuckled, his companion shot an angry look at him then turned his attention to me, with big wide eyes. “I still think that mister Silver wouldn’t care. He doesn’t mind about helping out a local hero cause ya remember that group? The funny dressed ones?”

The guard against the fence snorted, “Those colourful fruits? Sure they had energy weapons and used those horrendous robots from Guardian-Unlimited. They were nothing, but a group of delusional weirdoes if you ask me.”

Bone-Break nodded slowly, “That was a children’s show.”

“Aw come on Johan, they were cool. Just like that group of fighters from the old world we played as when we were kids. Ya loved the pink one! You dressed as her-” that was as far as the guy got before Johan smacked the back of his head.

“Emile, what does ‘Never talk about again’ mean to you? Tell everyone that wanders through here?” he swore then either ignoring or just not caring about Emile’s protesting cry, Johan turned his head to me and coughed, “So,” green eyes raised an eyebrow at me, “If you are that Ranger girl everyone’s been talking about, why should we let you in for free?”

“Because anyone that helps out a bunch of enslaved children,” I debated, “Who were going to be eaten, deserves a free pass.” Go my charismatic skills, go.

“She saved kids and made travelling from here to Memorial easier and cleared out the Goondiwindi highway, leaving trade open up north.” Emile said softly, keeping well out of arms reach as he rubbed his head.

“That’s-” before Johan could further his outrage, a small boy jumped onto his back and peered at me over his shoulder, his face very familiar to me.

I blinked and looked closely at the kid, noticing he had bright green eyes combined with a cheeky grin, I felt my lips break into a smile, “Lexie, did you get here unharmed?”

The mute boy smiled and nodded; scribbling something on a pad of paper on a lanyard and handed it to Johan. He sighed, taking the yellowed pad and read it aloud, ‘Vincent took me home, to dad. Though Molly is missing. Vincent went south-west to the Red-Rocket to check on the other kids.’.”

An odd image popped into my head, that the kids from the Orana Daycare lived in an old Rocket launch site playing as astronauts. Maybe they were all descended from scientists who were there when the bombs fell. An even odder image was that Johan was Alexander’s father, I became more wary of the well-armed man. Glancing at Lexie, I could see the resemblance in around his eyes, the shape of his nose and even his slight movements were a near copy of Johan’s. I just wondered who Molly was.

Vanity or whatever her name was, returned and was giving me a look of disdain, thankfully getting Johan’s increasingly concerning eyes off me. “So what, you got some raiders dead, saved some kids and didn’t sell them to slavers. Not like anyone else wouldn’t do that.” Part of me agreed with her, another part knew she was right. The final part of me was just angry.

I looked at her coolly, calming my anger as it flared then simmered under my control as I looked into her mud coloured eyes, “You know how many people went that way because of the highway? How many went to save those kids?” I paused, “I saw firsthand that the people who went there. When they saw raiders, the ‘prisoners’ in the pens, they turned tail and ran.”

“We sent several people out to retrieve them and Alexander.” she explained, defending her ground. Her choice cost a child’s life, trauma and needless bloodshed; she would gain no love from me.

I felt my eyes leer at her poor excuse, “When the kids were free, I was told by Vincent and the kids themselves that several people had tried before me. Killed some raiders and saw the kids imprisoned and mistreated. You know what they did? They turned around asking if they could join the remaining raiders because it turned out they were scum as who just wanted something to eat or torture.”

Vanity gritted her teeth and stepped aside, biting her lower lip, muttering something in anger, “Get in there, mind the swarm. You’ll need it with that attitude.” She stated icily, while informing Johan quickly about something I didn’t catch, and then resumed to take the entrance fee of the people who had gathered in the queue behind me.

I briefly wondered what a swarm was, maybe some kind of robotic bee. That thought made my mind go to the malformed Honeybee-fly that rested in my pack, which I desperately had to sell or do something with. I couldn’t just pick everything up in the wasteland that piqued my curiosity, I would be overburdening myself soon enough and slinging mutated guts at merchants or hostile people to lighten my pack load.

“Vanityyyy, where’s my drink!” Emile whined with the tenacity of a five year old, poking the woman in the back repeatedly.

Not bothering to look over her shoulder she yelled back, “I told you, have your break and get it yourself!”

“Vanity ya suck.” The young man muttered, poking her in her back again as he turned away and started to follow Bone-Break and I as I walked away towards the double-door entrance of Col’s. “Selfish cow, go sodomise yaself with ya frosty bitchiness.”

A chill ran through me as I felt someone watching me. I turned my head and went wide-eyed as I saw Vanity stare with death in her eyes and murder on her lips that screamed the end for the young man beside me. Said young man grabbed my wrist and ran like someone had lit his behind on fire, launching us inside. Everyone had a different face; Emile was panicked and fearful, Lexie looked on with confusion. Johan had a wide smirk that prior was a shake of his head as he attended to the other patrons; whom themselves laughed as Vanity screamed death to Emile in so many painful ways if he ever insulted her again he’d need a catheter.

I was now terrified of ever being alone with her if she was ever on her period around me, as her temper would incite her to kill me for breathing. The ever helpful Bone-Break simply shielded me from the card-table that Vanity had thrown at Emile in her fit or rage- which had gone wide by a foot. Emile dragged me inside, though slightly stronger than I, I was little more than a ragdoll to him.

When we passed across the supermarkets threshold, I looked around noting that Col’s was relatively clean. Not as clean as my Vault’s entrance, still very clean in compared to the rest of the Southern wastes. Once we had gotten several feet inside, after unceremoniously knocking an elderly man to the ground he was very good natured about it, seemingly used to Emile’s and Vanity’s escapades. In the end, I was leaning against a bare wall beside Emile looking into a store that had once been a bakery- now turned exotic specialty store.

“When Vanity gets mad, she gets violent.” Emile chuckled as he panted against the wall.

“Well, making someone angry is not always the best idea.” I smirked and wandered past him to look at the stores. I knew how curious I was, being that this was the first large trading settlement that seemed to cater to various magnitudes in trade-- not that I was saying that Gecko Walkers was not a reputable store, this was just what I imagined the old world way of trading would have been. This was an opportunity to have a sticky-beak at everything I could. Emile explained every store we passed-- which frankly wasn’t needed; I was reluctant to say that my Pip-Boy would keep track of what stores were called and where they were.

When we reached everything in the nine or so stores that lined the building, I stopped for a moment in the centre of the stores amidst a sea of tables and chairs set out, much like the cafeteria in vault Twenty-Four’s. I wasn’t as meticulous to see ‘wrongness’ in something like yet not my home, a seat was a seat and I was famished. I plonked my butt down and leant my head down against the table, the cool plastic soothing the heat from the sun.

“Would you like the Box special?” a soft voice asked me.

 I glanced up, (my bangs covering one eye) at a red haired woman wearing a faded, yet clean pair of black pants and matching shirt. “Huh?”

“Hey Sweets, three box specials and a Roseman’s Blue,” Emile smiled, and then saw at my confused look, “She’s a waitress, tends the tables, cleans them, takes orders and stuff.”

I blinked; there were people that served you food? Was everyone lazy or was this a business aspect of culinary servitude that wasn’t applicable to a vault life like mine. Everyone took care of their orders and shucking their plates to the cleaning hatch-- any scraps were fed to the stock, the meat which was rarely ever wasted, usually gristle and fat was thrown into the protein vats that were then processed and fed to the crops.

“Waitresses were common before the war, low wage work.” Bone-Break murmured as she sat beside me, the chair creaking under her muscled weight, “Axby ginger beer,” she rumbled at Sweets-- who clearly was getting miffed at her chairs strain at remaining an upright chair.

The stressed out waitress looked to me, “Just a Cola for me.”

Sweets drew the pencil from behind her ear and scribbled our orders down and frowned, “I’m sorry Emile, aren’t any Blue’s this week. Next shipment we ordered from Tan-Worth is late again.”

“Aw maaan, I bet Vanity knew.” He grumbled with a pout that accentuated his immaturity. Which came to reason, he looked at least ten years older than I, why was he such a child?

Shaking my head, I shucked my pack off the floor and riffled around, pulling out a blue bottle of soft-drink. “Here, for having faith in me.”

Emile held the drink and looked at me like I handed him a thousand caps for no reason. With the biggest smile, he wriggled in his seat and hugged the drink, “Mmmmmm!” He must really like the taste of marshmallows, the fluffiest thing in existence besides a cloud.

I wonder if any sheep survived the apocalypse, a radioactive sheep with glowing wool…

Sweets sauntered away with our order, looking above her; I realized why it was called the Box special; the store was called the ‘Boxed Lunch’ with an oversized lunchbox nailed to the sign. How cute. While waiting. I realized that that the several stores I had seen were all that there was to Col’s, I had been grossly wrong in that assessment. Several groups of patrons who had been milling around, blocking a section from my view-- as was a portion of metal shutters spattered every two metre intervals.

On the other half of the building, there was a large open area spanning over fifty metres in length from one side of the building that was filled with rows upon rows like a supermarket. Unlike a supermarket; every second row had been removed to add ample moving room where some of the rows had been cut clear in half horizontally to hold wares at hip height for procuring customers. Amide these remaining rows, every few metres there were rundown booths that had people selling their wares.

Where the booths ended to the other side where several sets of large trays raised above the floor extending in a squared ‘C’ shape holding all sorts of goods. My vision wasn’t that high above norm, the stores with the unmarred trays that appeared to once hold fresh food looked like they had retained the same produce-- however mutated and changed from pre-war standards of what a potato was anyway.

With a glance, I had gathered that so far, the entrance was lined on one side with three stores; the first as I was told by Emile was where the guards slept, the second was once a bakery- was now a specialty store that sold anything and everything exotic. The third was literally what it was its pre-war sign said; a butchers.

I spotted meat that looked like cow, chicken and what I knew was lizards and Vince from days previous. There were lumps and slabs of meat I wouldn’t let my stomach let alone my taste buds touch; Radbeetle, Radroach, Bloatfly and something called a Rad-o’-dile. I still don’t know why I kept insect guts, still, the innards had an odd golden gelatinous glisten to them. The opposite side was a store that had once been two, now it was a store for liquor and explosives called Liquor Wasteland. The ‘Waste’ had been inserted between the former and latter words. A cheap change in name wasn’t that bothering, the very idea someone was selling explosives and alcohol was more concerning. I just hoped that they didn’t make the product in store-- or were incompetent with hazardous chemicals.

The rest of the stores had been promising; a doctor’s clinic by the far wall, then a clothing store that had remained clothing store after the war. Even with Adin’s promise of armor, it might be wise to purchase some sort of reinforcement such as a vest.

Sighing, I nudged my Pip-Boy onto my health-monitoring screen, seeing as how I had taken a reasonable amount of radiation, ingested or wandered near in the last few days. I figured even with my Geiger monitor and Rad counter telling me I was in the clean green, I should familiarize myself with the local doctor for any RadAway to keep my Rad count at a manageable level-- as I did not want to ever throw up blood again. Having the flu was bad enough when I was a child. Coughing until my lungs ruptured from coarse repeated action, had caused me to cough up blood, which made the illness 30 percent worse.

Within a few minutes of sitting in silence, wondering if the dark edge of yellow would make me pee blood. By then Sweets had come along and gave us our food, minus the caps on the drinks of course. Looking down at the plate of food, I drooled at the thought of a warm meal, so I dug in. The meat was tasty, which I was hoping was cow, and what looked like baked potatoes were pretty delicious. There was even gravy, delicious, delicious gravy.

As we ate, I turned my eyes towards Col’s once again; I soon I realized that the building housed more than half the number of my vault, which would mean that there would have to be all kinds of people. Easily, I sought out what appeared to be groups of people that would be raiders and psycho alike, I wouldn’t start a fight in a place without reason. With my behavior locked as my eyes widened at a robotic human cyborg with a brown kelpie dog wandered past me and browsed at a booth that featured powerful handguns.

“Ah, so you see Ke and Copper,” Emile said, pointing to the robo-human and dog, as he himself munched on a half-eaten carrot, “They patrol the outer reach of Gathering Water and up to Sydney.”

Bone-Break grunted affirmation, “Some say they have been around long before the war.”

Shaking my head, I resumed eating and looking at the other patrons. Behaving wasn’t that hard for me, with years of being harassed by the Overseer and the twins in the last few years had kept me under near constant watch of most people around me. It was a good thing when I saw Raiders with fresh bloody clothing mingling among the more normal wastelander patrons and children. Biting my lip, I tore my gaze from the raiders to Bone-Break-- she was looking stoic as she kept her gaze on her meal.

The raider trio was laughing at a one of their own holding a pink dress against another, yes; Daisy Pink against Gore red was in this season. Placing the dress back on the rack, the raiders group moved on; which made the taught smile of the booth owner turn into a deep frown as she looked the dress over, staring at the small fleck of blood and dirt.

It occurred to me that most people in Col’s were considerably well-fed in comparison to the almost skeletal raider’s I had ‘fought’ when I first met MD. The Red Belly Blacks were cannibals, and Memorial had ample food and water. The only logical explanation was that the trading their sister settlement did with them was a boon that aided the immediate area, ‘Where would they get so much food? I didn’t see that many crops for a sustainable venture.’ I thought, chewing on my remaining potato.

Oddly, the cleanest looking patrons were a pair of children, a boy and a girl who were complaining rather loudly about the lack of a good stylist in Col’s and how staying in their room was slumming it and sacrificing their demur. Emile had explained that the kids had purchased the most expensive room, which had once been the head office of Bull’s-eyes. If it wasn’t for the near dozen men and women following them around, I would assume that they would be fair game once they left Col’s premises. After watching the two children openly insult and literally destroy a booth’s display of finer food they sauntered off, leaving the owner in tears. I felt no sympathy for the children when the boy tripped over the girl and fell into pallet of ‘top quality’ Brahmin fertilizer, _‘Double the shits, double the vitamins’_ , splitting several sacks open and ruining both of their upmarket clothing.

With a slight smile I finished my food and drink, tucking the bottle into my pack and stood, stretching my arms out, hearing a pop in my joints. Emile promised to return the favor and walked back towards his post, to face a potentially ‘Pissed off banshee’ as he put it. Silent as a sentinel, Bone-Break strode by my side; it was surprising that her sheer mass didn’t make as much noise as she walked.

Turning my eyes around, I glanced at the last store between the metal shutters and the doctors clinic; ‘Bull’s-eye Rooms’ offering a mattress on the floor in an open space to private quarters. I anticipated at a glance that the hotel was closed as even an idiot wouldn’t have missed the closed shutters over several windows and the entrance. It was in my best interest to peruse the clinic in the near future; as I had the habit of handing over medical supplies to everyone I came across, from the slaves to children. It would be prudent if I stocked up on double of what I thought I would need-- because knowing my luck, I would be getting shot in the near future.

Offering Bone-Break some caps to buy whatever she needed, she promptly refused to take them as ‘I need nothing Ranger.’ was her reply whenever I offered her something that could possibly help her. Stimpacks, canteens, repair kits for her leather armour, all refused. To my chagrin, we wandered aimlessly around Col’s for the better part of an hour perusing the booths; finding most were scrap, general goods and weaponry stores. Passing a group of people wearing black and red armor, each sporting a red heart symbol on their right shoulder, brushed past me too close for comfort.

Not a second later and I saw why, the red hearts had given a wide berth in front of me for a heavily armored group of people with high caliber guns who could be only described as walking tanks. Even as a place of business, they barely held themselves within the established rules as they pushed all out of their way as they scoured every booth and stall for scrap metal, missile, clip and magazine for their armament. Eyeing the large extended barrel of the anti-material rifle on one of their backs could easily make a neat hole through my head-- or any other part of me.

While I was not being occupied by something that could murder or dissect me-- I knew I shouldn’t dally in anything idiotic and time consuming when I had priorities to take care of. Eventually, after inquiring at several booths, while selling my various pack of junk, ammo and weaponry, I found a directory to where this mister Silver’s office was. Roaming down a back hallway I encountered two guards who observed me with stern eyes, until I offered them the contract Ida had given me.

Looking the contract over, they stepped aside, glancing me over passively, while Bone-Break received a wary yet familiar nod of acceptance, as if they knew her as a regular. I shouldn’t be surprised, who knew what she did before we fought-- er, before we met, ah-ha. As I continued walking down the hallway, several doors branched off around me, none of interest as my Pip-Boy guided me to where I needed to be. Stopping in front of a chipped wooden door, I rapped my knuckles against the door three times and awaited a response.

“Come in,” a voice spoke cheerily.

I balked at the cheeriness of the voice, who had such clarity and happiness when someone knocked on their door? Was such an action an automatic response to foster some sort of bafflement for the prospective employee or customer?

Shaking my head I sighed as we entered the room, Bone-Break closing it behind her as I crossed the threshold into the most mediocre of offices had ever seen. If there was an office that ever looked more like an office-- it would have to be for a law firm. Gray carpeting in an ugly checked pattern, metal Venetian blinds that looked cloudy from chipped paint, a terminal; the furniture looked a mark better, cared for but generic and worn from time.

Oh… look at that, little balls on a suspension system. Clacky-balls if I was injudicious.

After the sheer obtrusive nature of mundane office, I looked at the owner of the cheery voice and felt my jaw drop from surprise. Before me stood a honey skinned man with hair so silver blonde that it was near white. Such a contrast threw me off, I didn’t notice that he moved around to the front of the table and smiled a smile that seemed to ooze self-assurance and confidence. It didn’t help that he was dressed in awfully neat clothing that screamed ‘I am the manager’.

“Ah, a new visitor to Col’s, how wonderful!” He seemed simply enthusiastic at me being there. He turned his gaze to Bone-Break, who was looking over at the assortment of books that lined the walls behind the desk, “It is good to see you again Bone-Break.”

The titan gave no hint that she was pleased-- or displeased for that matter. She was harder to read than a manual of ‘How to cook science!’ written in bi-lingual of French and Italian with references of long dead scientists and their ideologies. Not that I tried or anything… I admit that Einstein’s Quantum theory was baffling enough when combined with the theory of dark matter manipulation. I got that, but the math! Oh dear Stars, the math were unholy abominations!

Coughing out of my mind wandering, I noted that Mister Silver was offering my companion and I a beverage. I politely accepted a plastic cup of water he pulled from an intact water cooler before he sat us down around his desk, “So, I am Silver, proprietor of this collection of stores in this slice of the wasteland, how may I be of service to you this fine day?” his hazel eyes sparkling with earnest elation.

“I am Ambi Winter,” I replied, whether subconscious or not, I set my cup down; somewhat worried his apparent glee was infectious through the water. “I was contracted and working as a courier for your sister settlement-- Memorial, delivering a package to one Mister Silver,” I shuffled through my pack, retrieving the zip-locked bag, “Assuming that you are Mister Silver.” I grinned good-naturedly.

For his credit, Silver raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused that I had the insight to even bother to ask for some form of proof of him being the recipient for the delivery. He nodded to Bone-Break, her head tilting slightly to return the affirmative that he was who he said he was. Placing the audiotape onto the desk between us, I realized that I didn’t have a physical contract with Ida. Which begged the question; how was I supposed to get a signature from Silver for the delivery?

Silver picked up the zip-lock bag; removed the audio-tape and then pushed down his left sleeve-- revealing a Pip-Boy! He slotted the tape into the port, while removing the ear bloom and placed it in his ear. He turned away, politely giving us space-- which made no sense as we were intruding on whatever he was hearing. We sat in silence for several minutes, waiting to see what Silver would do. I busied myself by counting the ceiling plaster cracks; I got to one hundred and forty-seven when I got distracted by a painting above the single bed in the far corner. The painting was of a remorseful looking place that resembled a lake swamped by some sort of red algae.

Perhaps the red were tiny aquatic red flowers? I couldn’t tell from the distance. Either way, the painting was just another feature that made me repulsed by the old world, knowing that the red algae was most likely an imbalance in the environment.

“That was interesting.” Silver stated, bringing me out of my musings. He winked his silvery eyes, tapping his chin for a moment, “I suppose payment is in order then.”

 I blinked, What the devil would the payment be? I never discussed that with Ida, I should have, as any savvy trader or merchant would have. Yet I was vastly more concerned with the wellbeing of my relationship with the people of Memorial than with a stack of caps to pad my bags. “The common rate will be sufficient.” I bluffed, to propose that I had any inkling of the workings of economics in the wasteland.

“Oh?” the man queried, pulling a seemingly ever expanding number of caps from the bottom desk draw as he seemingly pilled them into palm sized bags made of some unidentifiable hide. Bone-Break’s brunette locks bristled as Silver placed a bag of caps in front of me, a decent size to be sure, “200 hundred caps, standard rate for couriering and audio device, plus distance fee.”

Observing him, I picked the bag up weighing it; using my mediocre math skills I calculated the estimated weight. A cap was about 0.5 grams, a too small amount to recognize, meaning about 200 caps would weigh one tenth of a kilo. As weak as I was-- or had been, I needed to know each measurement when dealing with my medication so I knew a bit better than the average Jane about minute weight handling. I seemed to have sensitivity to it, even with my seemingly standard observational skills. “Mister Silver?” I hummed lightly.

“Yes?” he smiled, his positivity astoundingly not at all obnoxious, “I something amiss miss Winter?” he seemingly enjoyed that pun, as did Bone-Break oddly… she had a mischievous look in her amber eyes ever since Mister Silver placed the caps down.

With a level-headed look, I smiled, placing the caps down on the desk before me, “179 caps? A pittance maybe missing, yet I believe a code of conduct is applicable here.”

“Whatever do you-” Silver started, before I raised my own eyebrow giving him a scathing look, to cut the crap and to stop messing with me. “Ah, well. Dear miss Winter, the first to see through my little game in a long time.” He sighed, dropping 21 caps onto the desk in front of me, “I do pay everyone fairly in the end, and I just like my couriers with a fine eye.”

I scooped up the small metal discs, slipping them into the provided bag and into a pocket in my pack, “Do many employees find that approach a reliable enjoyment?” I asked, purely curious of such attempts of foolery.

“He believes that any courier unable to see through this guise is not perceptive enough to know if they carry a threat with what they bring.” Bone-Break commented in a slow and purposely derisive tone, “Perfect way to sort out the idiots and to get a bullet in your head.”

Silver seemed so put off by her remarks he looked… sad? His hair seemed to darken a shade, though that could have been the blinds that kept swaying from the windows breeze. “It is a fair test I suppose,” I agreed, “However, it should be applied with a smaller degree of caps missing. That way it maybe a simple mistake, than trying to ‘keep’ over four.” I offered, noticing Silver’s eye glint as he seemed to brighten a fraction.

“Hm, a fractional decreases as an offer of professional aptitude; it seems possible and less aggravating.” He tapped his chin, “Well, I shall see how that little venture goes. Meanwhile-” he placed another bag of caps on the desk, near three times larger than the first. “Payment,” seeing my eyebrows rise in question, he continued, “For clearing the raiders out of Orana area and clearing the Tan-Worth highway for caravans.”

Frowning, I smoothly pushed the bundle back towards him, “Why would I accept this? I wasn’t under contract and I certainly did not do it for something as trivial as money.” I scoffed, the very thought such an affront to me. It wasn’t as if I was ungrateful. I was not happy to be paid for killing; no matter that raiders were… not good people.

Silver regarded me coolly, his hazel eyes scanning over me, every detail of myself becoming an interest to him while appraising my objection. Bone-Break stared at me with the same look of wary apropos she gave me when she was attempting to dissuade Ida from taking my offer of help.

If I accepted payment for killing, even if it was for killing raiders, it wasn’t right. I realized that even if I was paid, my ‘killing’ of said raiders, I had only played a part, as it was Vincent and MD were responsible, not I. If I did choose a life of hunting bounties, raiders would the obvious choice, then what? Would I hunt down wayward ‘murders’ and so called ‘wrong doers’ labelled as true as they were or as facsimiles for a quick buck or revenge. Would I kill others? Would I follow a path of killing, vengeance and lies for money?

No. No, I wouldn’t believe in such a thing… could I?

Then man sighed, placing the bottle caps back within my range, “It admirable to have such conscience. I know that you had help, Vincent… is an old friend of mine, and he made it clear that I pay you for services rendered. You made the choice to go to Orana, whether indirectly or hinted to; you stopped raiders.”

“I don’t-” I attempted to interject; he kept going with a thoughtful expression.

“Not just raiders, cannibalistic raiders. If not for the contract, then consider it money for rescuing half-a-dozen children and for returning one of our own. Peace of mind for Johan.” He offered, gesturing to me, “If you hadn’t been there, six children would have been tortured for amusement, brutally murdered and then eaten.”

Pondering what he said, I thought to Vincent, how I met him and in turn seen what he was forced to do. He had been forced into becoming a butcher of those the Red Belly’s caught, whoever was unfortunate enough to wander too close to their base. He faced death at all angles, for himself, the bodies, and the children. I let out a shuddering breath and looked down, if only I had been faster when I left my vault. Perhaps I could have prevented that unnamed child from being slaughtered and put on display as a macabre doll, cut open like a specimen. I looked up, through the curtain of my hair (now more like leaden weights from the ichor of the wastes) up into Silver’s shining eyes.

Defeated by his logic and sound reasoning, I nodded and took the caps and slipped them into my pocket; noting how my Pip-Boy yet again knew that and added up the number to the total I had obtained from trading and buying in Col’s. I suppose that 600 caps was a fair gain for stopping raiders, renewing a caravan route and rescuing a captive resident. Perhaps I could take some out to the kids at red rocket, or leave a package of them for Vincent with Silver, I mean he had to pass through again sometime right?

“Now, I know you will spend some of that contract reward here, on account that you seem clever to be prepared for the wasteland,” Silver correctly concluded. While it was true I would spend some caps I would receive, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had made a good amount from what I had sold. Not to mention that either because I was a local hero for Lexie, my friendly disposition or because Bone-Break being my constant shadow, I traded my items for what seemed the market price.

“Influx of caps by a local heroine, promotes business.” Bone-Break clarified, her tone snarky as her brown hair still prickled.

Hero? I wasn’t a hero.

Without a chance to object such insanity form the like of Aegis and Astral, the tan-skinned man placed a small rectangle-like box on top of the table. It was no bigger than a playing card, yet I was as thick as a half a deck. Examining the box, I realized one of two things; the first was that it was a different style audio recorder; the second was that it was slightly smaller than my Pip-Boy’s side. “What is this?”

Seeing my bafflement, Silver smiled softly, “An audio recorder,” I opened my mouth, wanting to ask where the plug for my Pip-Boy’s outlet cord was, “It is a pre-war model, specifically made for integration with Pip-Boys and specialized terminals.” Taking my hand, (his fingers were very warm) he turned my wrist over and taped the side of my Pip-Boy facing away from me, “Here,” he pushed a tiny button, tinier than my pinkie’s fingernail, popping open a slot. I blinked, seeing an audio tape already inserted and tilted my head.

What the…?

“This tape was traded for about ten years ago, been waiting for vault dweller with an intact tape player for a long time. You can guess how many came along that I could trust or at all,” he chuckled, “Do you know how many came along including yourself that tried to scam me out of camps with their sure-fire ideas to get the tape? To decrypt it?”

“Depending on where this tape was found, I suppose a few who would be interested in old world technologies.” I guessed, debating the whole technology survival rate from near two hundred years of apocalypse. Removing the current tape, I placed into my pocket for later, curious to know what the tape meant or why it was in my Pip-Boy in the first place. Slotting in the audio tape Silver offered me and through the auto-pop up when I closed the case, I selected the play toggle, a series of beeps sounded, “You have a Pip-Boy, why would you need mine or any other?”

With a wry chuckle, Bone-Break understood his reasons easily; I did not, “Triangulation. He needed at least three Pip-Boys with the tape downloaded to act in synchronization in order to pinpoint the exact location of where the desired piece was.”

He smirked at my companion as she glared back, “This recorder is said to contain the co-ordinates to a cache of water purifiers; and other pre-war tech. I can get what I need easily; water, food, ammo and a place to sleep. Water purifiers are not too difficult to build if you have the skill and parts. Yet they end up being several feet tall and extremely noisy to remove as much radiation as possible.”

I was suddenly glad for my three canteens.

“What is needed is somebody I can trust. Someone who isn’t a two-bit thief, unlike the last person I sent on another’s word and trust.” He murmured, almost bitter. He looked into my eyes, earnest and true, “Can you be that person to get the job done?”

I thought his offer over. On one hand, I would be helping another settlement. On the other hand, I didn’t know what he would do with the purifiers; would he sell them to make profit? That was the most likely as he was a man of business. Something niggled at my brain, a thought that wouldn’t go away. Maybe he knew someone with the skill to reverse engineer new purifiers! It was a long shot, but… no, could the wasteland have such facilities still around? “Why do you want them? Besides the obvious.” I added quickly, not meaning to insult him,

“I have family that can breakdown the technology, figure out how to make something similar if not replicate it to a close degree.” Silver responded, being ever so patient for the Vaulter. He appeared to be a good man; he cared about those who weren’t his own. Vincent, ever suspicious of me when we first met, trusted Silver enough to tell him about what he went through.

Unsure whether my companion was jaded or unhappy she looked us over, shrugging, “You can choose what you will little one, help, refuse or pawn this on another.” Her eyes said something different, as hard as they were to read, I was sure I knew what she would prefer.

As did I.

I sighed, rubbing my eyelids, “Very well, I will do this quest of yours.”

“Excellent,” Silver clapped, then sighed, “The remaining problem is as Bone remarked, we are one Pip-Boy short. Vault dwellers are rarer than people believe, I have only heard of three vaults opening, yours included Miss Winter.” Depression seemed to overcome him as his eyes dimmed, “Five years I awaited someone like her, then now you after three.”

“Time does seem to shrink, perhaps you await eighteen months.” Bone-Break observed dryly, clearly not comfortable with Silver’s sudden mood change.

We sat in silence for a moment, when I gasped, slapping my head, “Idiot!”

“Don’t hit yourself.” Bone-Break sighed, eyeing the red mark on my forehead.

Turning to her I grinned cockily, “Three Pip-Boy’s, I have a third of sorts!” How could I be so ignorant! _‘Cerberus?’_ I thought, hoping he wasn’t just going to ignore me.

 _Yes Winter?’_ he asked, his ‘voice’ concerned, _‘Are you okay?’_

‘Can you hack technology?’ I queried, hoping my idea wasn’t impossible.

Seeming to ponder, Cerberus replied, ‘If you are pondering what I am pondering, then yes. I believe that I could act as a substitute relay between myself, yours and Miser Silver’s Pip-Boy’s.’

Looking from Bone-Break to Silver I smiled, moving to the lone terminal, “May I?”

Silver abashed, moved to the side and proceeded to ask Bone-Break if I suffered from schizophrenia, dual personalities or some other kind of brain damage. To her credit she replied that all of us were a little crazy. Inserting my Pip-Boy’s connector cable, I awaited a prompt and followed Cerberus’s direction; baffled by a few of the words he said. I admit that he dumbed one or two down to get things done. Eventually, he created a crude dummy system to essentially fool the recorder into believing that there were three Pip-Boys to triangulate the position, when in truth Cerberus would be acting as the third, by dumping the terminal with data to act as one of the anchor points. Finally I clicked a button with satisfaction, as the three devices clicked and beeped in the room.

 _“It’s done.”_ Cerberus stated, seemingly happy with something to do. Was he lonely? I should talk to him later, human to AI, vault dweller to mainframe intelligence, girl to …guy? I looked over my Pip-Boy as I removed the cable, seeing that the map screen selection had zoomed out and was located at somewhere called ‘Aqua Pure bottling plant’ and ‘Envi Corp’ far to the south.

 I turned to Silver, the breath taken out of my lungs as he slammed into me, his eyes sparkling. Bone-Break doing nothing to stop him, I blinked wide eyes as he leaned down and kissed me enough to make my heart flutter in protest. Stunned as anything, I was baffled why he was kissing me, “Oh miss Winter,” he purred, “You have made my dream come true.” He kissed me again and wrapped his arms around me swinging me around with carefree abandon. When I didn’t respond he blushed slightly, setting me down, “Forgive me, you have made a lifelong dream possible.”

 I waved him off, my face still pink from his affection. “Think nothing of it, dreams can make people erratic.” Of course I had nothing to speak of; I never really had a dream for anything.

He shook his head, his moonlight hair shifting slightly, “I should have guessed, you are traveling with Bone-Break after all.” He smiled good-naturedly as somebody knocked on the door behind us. A young woman poked her head inside, the shop owner whom the raiders had annoyed and one of many that the children had abused, “Mister Silver, the security in-” she saw me and blinked, “I-I am sorry, I didn’t relies that Mister Silver had company.”

“Daisy, it is fine,” Silver reassured her, “Is it Bull’s-eye?” Daisy nodded, clamping up shyly as she brushed her black hair out her eyes, “Miss Winter? Would you be up for one more contract for today?” he grinned, using all his managerial charm in the world on me.

Frankly, I had already decided to help, I just needed information like any sane person would. I hadn’t had a chance to properly look around at the booths and stalls for anything useful or information besides where Mister Silver’s location. Besides it wouldn’t hurt to get anyone on my side if they knew where my sisters and Gasper might be. I nodded, my face slipping into a sly smile of confidence, “Point the way commandant.”

***        ***        *** 

Going through the debriefing with Silver in my head, it was obvious that I was being reckless. What could I say; I could avoid fights, shoot and frankly was a fine speaker when I could be. I had surmised that Bone-Break would be best as backup, prevent anything from getting out into the general populace. A wise decision at one point, now I wasn’t nervous or unsure, yet I was wondering if her innate strength would have helped.

It turned out that the two rich kids running around with their twelve guards were from the Empire, a group that considered themselves the smartest and richest people in the wasteland who were descendants of the high societies from before the war. Even when Australia still had a semblance of royalty, when we were still part of the commonwealth we did not have any aristocrats. Meaning; that they were descendents of politicians, CEOs and other bureaucrats. Silver had informed me that during the second day the children were in Col’s they had decided to be difficult (as most children are) and messed with a terminal that controlled the security drones. Effectively changing their identification processors to determine everyone a threat and attacked everyone in sight.

Thankfully, no one was killed, just a few people with bruises and one twisted ankle. That was a week ago, yet no one was doing anything. Apparently they had been taking shifts with the guard’s barracks. The amount of drones would become too costly if everyone was shot, fried or smashed apart. I had been told that they were a shipment that had been found in a buried Tan-Worth about thirty years ago and were working wonderfully since then and would cost up to fifty thousand caps to replace fully. Silver had outlined the contract simply; stop the robotic drones. Shut them down. Do not break them, pricy and a bitch to reprogram. It wasn’t hard to figure out, ten drones, meaning they cost five thousand caps each. I knew that I had about oh, about a third of that. I thanked everything under the poison sky that there was something I could use to add to my plan, given to me as a surplus deal to stop the drones.

It should be a piece of cake with Hecate.

Yet I screamed, diving behind a counter and hoped the drone was messed up enough to know where I was, as I had seen several only move when they could see me. Did the children do something or were the drones directives conflicting? When I was unwise enough to raise my head above the counter, multiple drones greeted my vision and multiple red beams of death shot at me until I lowered myself down. Thankfully due to the upgrades on Hecate, I had already taken half of the drones down with minimal burns.

My plan was sound and wonderful Bone-Break had dissembled several EMP charge capacitor components and attached them to Hecate’s frame for me. She had worked out that by delaying and distributing the charge, the nets themselves could be electrified with EMP particles multiple times. Enough to knock the drones out, yet not enough to fry their circuitry rendering them worthless.

I love how simple plans work out brilliantly; shoot drones with net, when net grapples around it releases an electrical charge knocking drone out. Unnerving as it was, V.A.T.S was something I relied too heavily on-- as one drone had proved that already by dodging at the last second even with my assisted targeting. It was cheating, definitely cheating on my part, yet I was using it as an advantage and for the drones. It wasn’t right to destroy such technology because of their programming.

I raised a small mirror from behind the stained counter and peeked up at the reflection. Nothing. I huffed and moved along under the counter, putting my mirror away and glanced at my Friend or Foe indicator in my vision. All the red bars were off to my left, somewhere near the classroom section of Bull’s-eye layout. With a scurry and a roll, I darted into a changing room to my right and shut the door with a click. Hopefully since there were no gaps above or below the door that would keep the drones from physically spotting me.

Sitting on the lone bench, I inserted another net bundle into my makeshift gun. Funny that it was just a steam gauge assembly, a small pot, a bunch of properly sized pipes with Wonderglue and a blowtorch. And a trigger assembly, nothing fancy though just a bolt action trigger. It did give me pause, as Emile had showed me what a Rad-o’-dile looked like-- a melee aspect to my gun maybe? Teeth, detachable knife or bayonet? With a smirk I readied several more net bundles, (ones form the drones I had knocked out of commission) when I realized that something was touching my foot. I wasn’t alone in the changing room.

            Carefully I acted as if nothing then looked down at the gap between the bench and the wall. I saw something that made my heart ache in sadness. Under the bench was a little girl, not any ordinary child either. She was a corpse that had been left to rot. Her skin had peeled away from her flesh and what once was blood was some sort of oozing congealed black paste. Had she died from the drones? Had none been able to get her body? It wasn’t right at all. I blinked and shook my head, how could someone decompose that fast like this? I kneeled down on the floor and gingerly grabbed the blanket she was wrapped in moved her toward me.

Her head shifted towards me and looked right at me.

My eyes went wide in alarm as I struggled to keep down my lunch. She looked at me, fear in her eyes. A zombie, a real-life zombie-- shaking my head from such stupid thoughts, zombies were not real. I cleared those thoughts as quickly as they came; she had eyes that weren’t soulless and something of horror, she was a child for God’s sake. I put my net gun on the floor, facing away from the girl.

“Hey, come on out, nothing is going to hurt you.” I spoke softly moving back against the door. Slowly, the little zom-- girl, the little girl came out and sat on the bench far away from me. “Can you speak?”

She gave me a confused look then tilted her head, opening her mouth; showing me a mouth full of rotted and yellow teeth, and a wet tongue. Okay, so not mute. She smiled at my confused look and giggled when I went crossed eyed. The worst part of that was I had at one point had been crossed eyed, thanks to ‘accident’s in my youth, got my head beat from falls until I went goggle-eyed. I was lucky I grew up in a vault with excellent surgeon to correct my retina. I smiled and poked out my tongue.

“At least you smile, took a while for Lexie to warm up to me too,” I chuckled and saw the girl stare at me, moving closer.

“Alex?” she spoke in a rough voice yet so softly, that the only way I knew she had talked was by the movement of her mouth. “He’s okay?” I nodded in return. She smiled a broad smile that only a child could have and wiped her eyes, scraping a thin layer of skin away, “Can you take me with you?”

I rose, taking Hecate in one hand and took her hand in the other, “It will be dangerous, you have be able to move fast.” She just smiled and leapt onto my back, wrapping her thin legs around my middle and clutched my shoulders tightly.

“I’ll see and you run.” She whispered into my ear as I gripped the doors handle, turning it and opened the door.

I nodded; gasping as a drone appeared, hovering in front of the door. Shooting it point-blank range and loaded another net bundle, stepping over the drone as it writhed as its lights black out.

Quickly, I took a right into a maze of free-standing metal racks that had once held clothing, now they held sports equipment and had lengths of rope strung, tied and looped between to make an impromptu training course for the guards. When I passed the course, I shot two drones that had been perching on a hanging light from the roof. They ceremoniously fell into a container of pillows that were less than clean. A sound behind me; turning around I managed to duck in time as another drone had decided to dive bomb us. Jumping up I missed it and ended catching a mannequin, which sizzled where the net touched it, making the area smell of burnt plastic.

How? How did an EMP charge capacitor do that? It wasn’t producing electricity in the same spectrum anymore!

Spinning around; I ducked as the same drone came around and lower spitting a red laser of potential blinding death at me. “Okay, hold on and please don’t scream.” I paused, taking a running jump and leapt; grabbing one of the wheelie dollies’ littered around the massive room and used my mediocre strength to balance and turn back, angling so I could shoot the drone coming behind us.

The girl dug her heels into my ribs. Taking the gun in her arms and shot; capturing not just the one that had been following us, but another that had swept down from the ceiling about to attack. I smiled and looked back at the girl, “I’m lucky I had you here,” I laughed with her and shifted my weight back, pulling the girl to my front as I caused the dolly to skirt and tilt back.

The metal shredded the grungy carpet and dug deep, tearing and pulling it to a stop-- not before running into an aisle and jerking us over the side. I lurched forward and landed on my back. I wonkily struggled to my feet, looking around for the girl, sighing as I spotted her. She had been lucky enough to land in a great big pile of mattresses stacked on one another on the other side of the shelving.

With a throbbing in my back, I walked to her and pulled her gently to her feet. We spent a little while untangling the nets (I meticulously folded them for reuse) and drones then placed them on an undamaged dolly. With a smile she took my hand as we pushed the dolly to the entrance back to the main section of Col’s.

***        ***        ***

After watching the general populace that noticed, smile at me or more so cheer that they had their beds back and undamaged drones. I watched as Alex and Molly (I had my suspicions of crushes) in a tearful reunion which resulted them both crying and laughing as Ke wandered over and licked both of them. Briefly I wondered if she liked Molly more became of how close the blood was to her skins surface.

Dragging my aching back to Silver’s office I all but collapsed in the chair he offered me. Bone-Break was happy enough to observe by the window as she drank what looked to be a beer. Laying my head on the table I wished more than ever to have a warm bath to kill the ache in my upper back. Silver smiled knowingly, as if he had fallen from a speeding dolly.

“Wonderfully done miss Winter,” he flattered me as he placed another drink in front of me. Part of me had to agree; of course it was wonderfully done. Nothing damaged, aside from carpet that had it coming. No way in sense or artistic expression that ugly carpet exist, it had looked like urine mixed with blood. On the other hand, maybe the carpet was stained with it or felt good considering it was over two hundred years old. “Your payment, a fair five percent of the total product worth.”

My pain addled brain leered at him, “Five percent?” I wanted to smack some sense into the man, “You cannot be serious, one thousand caps.”

He smirked, his hair falling into his eyes (I wanted to brush it away, for some unknown reason), “I am wholly serious, this fee is meaningful as well.”

My eyes narrowed, “How so?” What could be obtained from such a thing? The drones all had to be rebooted, probably cleaned and maintained. That could take days of work depending on how many technological savvy people where around.

 _‘Perhaps those children?’_ Cerberus offered, _‘If they were the cause then based on hierarchical society, their parent or parents would pay the debt of damages.’_

Silver’s eyes widened slightly, “Have you figured it out?”

“I would be lying if I didn’t have help,” I chuckled, “Only a serious entrepreneur would give such a reward for one of three reasons. One, you believe in fair and honest work. Two, you know those children’s parents will pay for what they have done in keeping up appearance or trade agreements.” He was surprised at my reasoning, then nodded for me to continue, “Three, you believe whole heartedly, that trade is the inevitable way to save the wasteland.”

Arguably, that was the first time I had seen Mister Silver shocked in any way. His eyes widened as a small sly smile crossed his lips, “Well, how did you guess? Perhaps I have a soft heart for wastelanders trying to better the world?”

I shook my head, “I have seen the merchants here, the produce and wares. No one seems to be suffering from lack of food. I didn’t see a raider or any mutated animal for at least a hundred metres from here.” I explained then shrugged, omitting that raiders were technically his customers, “Even your prices, not extortion, just a fair amount above a base price that can make it affordable for anyone to shop here.” I thought of the metal tank people and then ten thousand caps pristine gauss cannon, and then chuckled, “Well within reason of course.”

Silver nodded then shook his head in amazement, “You are right on all accounts, I have sent one of the marked drones to the Empire closest to here with a bill for the damages of their citizens.”

“There are some things I must ask about, why are you so… dedicated to this?” I asked, throwing out my arms, referring to everything around me. More so to the depressing office than anything else.

He rose, determinedly out of his chair and strode across the room to a wall sized map that Bone-Break was looking over, he threw his hand out over the general area of Gathering Water, “This wasteland,” his hand moved over the eastern mountains, then the Murray Darling river through New South Wales, to the great deserts in the middle and finally over the vast rocky terrain and savannah of the western coast, “Through trade we open familiarity and negotiations. A common ground to exchange produce, water, anything and everything in the wastelands we can find. We can come together in peace and fairness to be better people and expand to remake our country into something great again.”

I frowned at this. It was a beautiful sentiment, to believe that everyone could come together and trade to make the world better. Yet… that was how the whole war started, trading with another country. I could see what Silver meant, equality in trade, until someone got greedy and wanted more than was fair. “Could trade really save the Wasteland?” I asked myself aloud.

“Depends on who is operating the trade.” Bone-Break sighed, looking pensively over the map, over a city called ‘Melbourne’, “Humans have fought over technology before, as others fought against us for our resources.”

Silver moved back over to me and grabbed the bag of caps and handed it to me, “Payment, and a one hundred and fifty bonus for not destroying any of the drones.”

I took the caps and inwardly sighed, then blinked, “When you mean everything?” I trailed off, hoping he did not sell what I was thinking. Quickly I went over in my mind, thinking desperately if I had seen a slave or something resembling a prostitute.

He saw the troubled question in my eyes and shook his head, “I can promise you, I would never sell people, nor would I sell another’s flesh.” He looked especially sickened by this and muttered, “I am not like other entrepreneurs in the wastes.

What kind of person could sell another into slavery? If I sold someone or exploited someone to perform sexual favors for caps, I would be wary of a bullet in my head or a knife in my back. “One last question,” I requested as Bone-Break had left the room for some reason or another, I believed she left as she had heard Silver’s ‘saving the Wasteland through trade’ speech before. I turned to face him with the slightest bemusement in my eyes.

“Go ahead; my time is yours as you need it.” Silver nodded, getting himself a glass of water and handing me one.

“Well,” this was awkward, “What did you mean by, ‘traveling with Bone-Break’. Was there something about her I should know?” I was honestly surprised when I saw Silver blink and look as if I was missing the most obvious thing in the universe.

“I thought you knew…” he spoke slowly then smiled coyly as if he been the cat that caught the canary, “Bone-Break, she is an old friend of mine. Depending on how someone defines ‘old’ I suppose. Whether it is the relevant time period of how long we have known each other, or what we experienced,” he trailed off.

Philosophical ideas aside, he had wandered off into memories of a time when my current companion was his… whatever she was to him. “Silver?”

He looked up with a startled blink. “Ah yes, well Bone-Break is of the other persuasion.”

A moment passed as his information sank in, and then another as a faint spattering of pink brushed my cheeks, “I’m not gay.” Regarding me with a collected look, he chuckled in the most restrained way, “Really I am not attracted to women!”

If he was capable of doing so, I think he would have laughed his lungs up if he was less of a composed man. A brief smile as he placed his hand on my shoulder, “Tell me, is it her muscles that attracted you to her?”

I started to turn away to leave the room and do something. Something, anything, to get away from such embarrassment and false affirmation. “No. I told you my piece, now leave me be.”

He followed behind to the doorframe, “Her ‘come hither’ stare when you are thinking with your cute pondering look?”

“What?” I barked while looking over my shoulder at the amused man, what stare was he talking about? When had Bone-Break or anyone stared at me? And I most certainly was not cute. I scoffed and looked forward as the door clicked shut, confirming he was now out of reach and view.

Such an infuriating man.

Idiotic, imprudent managerial twot.

I turned around and felt my indignation as it reared, “I am not cute! Do you hear me!”

My reply was the sound of honeyed laughter.

***        ***        ***

The next place I decided to go before taking a break was the clinic; as odd as it was, setting up a medical practice in a salon was a good idea. After all they already had chairs that could lean back that were bolted into the floor. Before I stepped into the clinic I glanced over at a floor-to-ceiling window pane, various medical procedures had been painted on the outside as a list;

_‘Stitch-up 50 caps_

_Radiation purge 100 caps_

_Pain killer-various 25 caps a dose_

_Teeth pulled 10 caps per tooth, wrong one first, next one free_

_Ask about our stock_

_Amputations are done by our resident Mr. Handy, Mr. Bones,_

_Amputations one off, second free.’_

I snorted and shook my head; I wouldn’t trust a Mr. Handy any more than I could throw it. Not after the insanity of trying to stop the one in Golden Granaries Warehouse from dismembering me. Craning my head, I gazed further inside; in another room opposite I partially saw a scrawny or perhaps anemic looking woman inside. Hearing my footsteps against the cracked tiles a vaguely tinny British voice called out, “Take a seat and the doctor will be right with you,” the floating orb of my bane hovered over to me, “May I offer you a beverage or a magazine while you wait?”

Polite to me and offering a magazine to pass my time?

Now, I was unsure whether or not I should have bad feelings for such a civil robot. Albeit, I was not ill-advised, I knew it was programming that made Mr. Bones this way, whether or not he cared about what choice I made. “Very well.” I concluded, taking the seat closest to me and taking a gander at the half a dozen magazines offered to me. Inevitably, I choose the most recent (printed in October 2077) _Canberra Medical Journal_ magazine, noting that it had a periodical on cellular regeneration. The next twenty minutes I spent reading the magazine, amazed at the condition, pondering if I could purchase it.

“Ah, so the Ranger finally makes her way to my abode then?” a rough voice asked from behind me, from where the doctor had supposable been. I looked up, my eyes widened as I saw women that appeared to more jerky and boiled than a human ever should be.

Being the weirdo I was and grinned my coyest grin, “Well, I had to meet the resident doctor, after all I just know we would spend time together.”

Not missing a beat, she rolled her milky eyes, “Well since hearing about your exploits on Chandelier of Stars, yes,” she almost mocked, “We will definitely get to know each other better.”

This playful banter went on for several minutes as she gave me a physical; which felt odd due to the skin being rough on her fingers-- even below the medical gloves, it felt as if jerky through plastic wrap was being rubbed against me. I watched her as she worked; finding out her name was Lily as she halted my physical and tended to more serious cases than my own. Watching her with fascination as she systematically helped and aided those under her care. She was kindly, but terse with everyone she met. The evidence being that she did everything and more so to help, yet swore every sentence she spoke.

“Fucking flying orb of God’s anal probe! Bones, where the fuck are my glasses?”

Case in point.

“On your head doctor.” The tinny robot replied, as he brought a tray laden of Stim-packs, medical utensils and sterilized gauze bandages to her side.

“…why the fuck didn’t you tell me that you flying scrap sphere?”

“Molly said it would be funnier if you had them in plain sight.”

A brief moment of silence hung in the air as Lily glared at Mr. Bones, “If we weren’t already dead, I would kill that girl…”

Already dead? I thought… what was she? Both she and Molly looked like they had gone through a fire; I thought they were burn victims. I waited patiently, as she finalized her patients and received payments, whether on their tabs or with caps.

After bantering with me for the physical and some medical supplies I didn’t have, she came to my side and placed what I couldn’t get in Memorial on top of my pack and snapped it shut. Then returned to my side and took my face in her hand, tilting my head side-to-side. “You’ve been fucking lucky in the last few days, bruising on your eye socket, scrapes full of diseased microbes, superficial burns and scars, radiation exposure, micro-lacerations and cornea scratching. You are lucky that you aren’t blind.”

A shameful flush spread across my face, I didn’t need to tell her that was from fighting the Honeybee-flies and somehow I made a postal box blow up on the way to Col’s this morning. Though, the scrapes and burns were most likely from the dolly crash and drones; their energy weapons had stung when they grazed me and when they hit my skin, the rays burned as if I had coals in my flesh. “Yes. Lucky, lucky me.” I chortled half-heartedly, rubbing the back of my head.

Lilly smacked my hand and shook her head, “Fucking smile you shit, there are worse things to be sad about.” She exhaled and tapped the side of my head with a capped pen, “Then again, by what I have heard from Bone-Break, you have done this much damage to yourself every day. Most people don’t suffer that in one day. Months certainly, weeks depending on occupation, years even but in one day you get yourself burned, shot, scraped at and beaten up. You sure took the title ‘Ranger’ to heart.”

“I’m not a ranger.” I murmured, thinking back to the silvery black armored soldiers I had seen in books about the war. They were courageous, an exceptionally skilled group that could do any mission they were given. Yet, I knew what the original rangers were in history; they were first bandits, rebelling slaves and convicts sentenced to starvation and labor of death in a new undeveloped land. Later the name became more; the shepherds of our lands and forests, keeping the rural folk safe from the wilds and bad felons of the land. Of course there were those bad few who… who were merciless to the natives of Australia. Reading as many history books as I did as a child, I found that several books and journals claimed through archaeological evidence that the indigenous settlers came to Australia, that they themselves had taken the land from native tribes before them. Evidence through decades of study had showed that original tribes surviving; most were believed to have been killed off, eaten by the new tribes or driven far south to Tasmania.

So I did the only thing I could do in comparison to the centuries old historic Kelly and Obsidian Rangers. I was morose. “Why Astral and Aegis would give me that name, is beyond me, it’s as ridiculous as a rad-free meal.”

Lily snorted, and even with my injuries she whacked me on the back of my head. “Shit, to be named something among such poverty, such perversion and fucked up shit in the Wasteland makes. People fucking need someone like you, a god-damn beacon to shine light out their ass.” I blushed and looked away as she continued, “Living another day without some bastard raider shooting up your suppliers and clients is a goddamn blessing.”

I raised an eyebrow, “So, you are all for the dwindling of clientele?”

She hit me again. “Yes I fucking am! I know for a fact how much in fucking means to people around here that we can trade with Tan-Worth. That their lives aren’t going to end because of fucking bitch ass raiders with some affinity to an over-sized worm with anger issues.”

Wait, what just happened?

Light out my ass and raging snakes, just the sort of talk I needed. Sighing I looked back to her, “I am nothing special,” I shrugged, “I am just looking for my family.” If nothing but honest and true.

Something bloomed in her eyes, understanding? Knowing what I had been through to find those I care for? The burned doctor shook her head, “Family is important, vital…” she looked at the wall behind me, contemplating something beyond my knowledge; whether a thought of the past or family she had lost, I would never know, “Problem with you vault dwellers, you are all fucked in the head and always have some quest to save your home.”

Vault dwellers? As in plural? “Where, have you met dwellers before?”

With the look that said ‘Yes, I have met people as stupid and reckless as you before’. She sneered, as she examined several bottles of pills, “Yes, every single one was either an idealistic fool, hate filled recluse or a monster waiting to happen. Fuck, I’ve been around long enough to have met hundreds of you fucking bunker rats.”

“Rats?” I asked worried that I knew the answer she would give.

“Live in a concrete and steel hole, and fuck each other.” Her answer was so blatant, so bold and stark that I was worried her words would ring true, or irreparably damage any future children I would have. “It is quite obvious though, I have met so many wasteland assholes over the years as I have outlived so many.”

That niggled piqued my interest, “How old are you?” seeing her look of utter disdain, I quickly added, “If that is alright to know. You must have had skills to survive long in this world.”

Lily stretched back, placing a bottle of Iron Man tablets down and looked me in the eyes, “245 years old.”

245 years old… how in the name of the Majesties, the Stars, Gronak’s illustrious hair! How could she be that old and still be living? She saw my confusion, my unease and sighed deeply, rubbing her jerky rough hands on her eyelids. “I’m a fucking ghoul. We live for a long time.”

”A ghoul?” I replied, racking my brain for any meaning of what the word ‘ghoul’ meant. She didn’t look like a ghost or Spector, nor was she frightening in a horrific way. At least, not to me in my eyes. With a kind heart she was a brash woman, who would look after you and protect you from your stupidity. As she had with me, I suppose, deferring to what my role was, no matter my objection in the wasteland. “What exactly is a ghoul?”

The elderly, if not severely antique doctor sat in a chair beside me, “A ghoul is a person who is affected by sheer amounts of radiation.” She looked down at my Pip-Boy, “Do you know the stages of Radiation Poisoning?”

I nodded, reciting what I remembered from my textbook in health class. “Radiation sickness has many stages, the first sign in usually nausea and hair loss. The effects that follow in succession are headaches, bleeding gums and blood in your stool. The third stage usually has but not limited to muscle atrophy, aching bones and fatigue ensues to the whole body, flesh bruises as cells break down creating open sores and blisters. Hair loss is a minimal effect, however has a high linkage in physiological issues in radiation poisoning.”

Lily nodded, accepting what I recounted, “A ghoul is a person-- who is for some unknown reason, affected differently than most others by enormous amounts of radiation that would kill most other beings.” I balked at that revelation, “How is that possible? What do you mean other ‘beings’?” Was she serious, or was she yanking my chain?

She shook her head, “The world fucking ended. We don’t exactly have people around to study the ‘why’ of ghouls.” The woman in question then lit up a cigarette, and took a long draw, “Other beings, sentient or not, there are fucking monsters out there that you do not want to fuck with or piss off.”

It was too enthralling to not know, I watched her as she blew out a series of smoke rings into the air. “Well, first off there is a whole slew of shitty creatures that aren’t affected by radiation,” she counted off her fingers as she went down a list, “A whole bitch bunch I surely don’t know about, Briar Hounds, Mutants, Feral Ghouls, Cyborgs, Wasps, Harpies and Lilin are those I can name off hand. All treated as monsters by bigots, when many aren’t’.”

My mind reeled, what kind of things could be unaffected by the ravages of radiation? I wanted desperately to know what each and everything was, so my mouth blurted everything out at once, “How can they live? Where did they come from? Have you seen any? Are they really monsters? Where they created? Are you treated badly?”

She regarded my coolly, then bopped me on the head, “Slow down missy, fuck, you have time to learn.” Moving to my side, pushed some sort of book into my hands, “This guide, was written by someone a long time ago when the world went to hell. It should help you.” With a reserved sigh, she moved behind me and continued whatever she was doing before she met me, “Ghouls… if you meet any, I know for fucks certain that you will. Read up on them. Most don’t have my shinning personality.”

“Wait,” I jumped up, grabbing my pack, shoving whatever book she gave me inside, “You said you met a lot of vaulters in your time.” I fiddled with my Pip-Boy and opened a file, a picture of Gasper, Belle and Clarisse, showing it to her, “These are my family, have you seen them? Treated them?”

Her aged eyes glanced at the picture then nodded, “Yes, I treated the black haired women for scorpion poisoning.” She saw my concern, “Fuck, she recovered quickly then they left after a day.”

“Did they say where they went?” I asked, now occurring to me that I should have asked Silver for such information. How was I so unperceptive?

With a long draw from her cigarette, ash drifting from the red tinged tip, Lily left me fretting, “The most they said was that they were going haul ass out to Inver, that’s southeast of here.”

I did the only thing I could do-- I threw my arms around her and hugged her. It didn’t matter that her skin smelt of meat. It didn’t matter that she was a bit squishy. She helped me, gave me definitive proof that my siblings, even my family, Gasper were moving and alive. “Thank you.”

She patted my back, familiar strokes of someone who knew what it was to lose those you cared for. In a blink of an eye she had lost her world, her entire way of life, in another blink I had lost mine. Hers was not of choice, while mine was of avarice and idiocy, a desire to aid my family and save my home from ruin.

Even if she did not want to; I needed to know, I needed to know about this world I was now a part of. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t ignore the monsters and horrendous malformations born from war, chaos and bloodshed of radioactive fire. I asked her so many questions about her, what ghouls meant, how the world was to them. The most dreadful revelation was that ghouls could become feral and sterility. It was obvious when I thought about it; radiation in certain waves (or particles) and doses is used to sterilize equipment, utensils and components. The breakdown in their cells, the fact that the sheer amount of radiation that caused ghoulification was enough to kill most humans; it would easily be enough to sterilize anyone.

I could never imagine losing my sanity in such a way, to have a guillotine constantly above my head the moment I became an ever living being born from atomic fire.

“Thank you,” Lily whispered, no anger or animosity in her voice, as if I were one of the few who treated her as anyone deserved to be treated-- with respect. When I moved away, Molly the dead-- no, the ghoul, was sitting beside us. Her round cyan quartz eyes staring at me, she held out a rumpled bag full of striped candy sticks.

Graciously, I took one and chewed on it; a pleasant burst of peppermint rolled over my tongue assaulting my senses with a fresh burn on my throat. The girl gave me a wide smile, the kind only a child could, then sprang up and ran into the back-room. Baffled, I looked up to Lily (who was by her a desk covered in manila folders) looking for an answer, “Why does she live with you?”

“Molly? And here I was thinking you had two brain cells to rub together,” she puffed out a final breath of smoke, extinguishing it in a cup seemingly placed for cigarette butts. As she looked up; her sleeve caught a wayward document, spilling a teetering pile of folders everywhere. A string of swears mostly relating to the folders integrity and how gravity was an unyielding whore, I got up and kneeled to help her retrieve the fallen documents and folders. With an aching groan, she stood and stretched her back, looking to where Molly went, “She’s my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” I blinked, biting my lip, “But you said… Radiation?” I added aimlessly, “You said that ghouls were incapable of having children.” I paused, thinking it over, “In the conventional sense at least.” As bad as the Wasteland was there had to be children adopted by family or friends even the lone kids seemed to have essentially adopted each other. “Is she adopted?” I asked carefully, hoping I didn’t step on Lily’s toes enough to create uproar of verbal profanity that would most likely cause my ears to bleed.

Oddly, she found my delicate considerations hilarious. “Fuck no. I adopted plenty before and after Molly.” The ghoul snorted, snatching up her last wayward folder and stood, grumbling about her knees under her breath.

“So, she is a niece? A child staying with you until her parents comes to get her?”

 Lily suddenly looked her age, as if the twenty decades had caught up with her pre-war age; that the true weight of the Wasteland had finally got to her. By her account, she was old enough to have been born four decades before the war. It was possible that Molly was her descendent that had been ghoulified, perhaps sharing a similar genetic structure.

“I birthed her, fed her, cared for her. I raised her.” Lily said with a soft smile, full of warmth and so unlike her vulgar demeanor for profanity. From her it seemed worth more than all the caps in Col’s, worth more than anything in the world. “She’s my biological daughter.”

 

 

* * *

_Footnote: Level up!_

_**New perk:** Vous les trouverez à la fois: - You are unsure whether or not you like men or women- in spite of your objections. You gain a +10% damage to either sex and unique dialogue options with certain people you encounter in your travels._

_**Faction:** Col’s (status- friendlies): you have encountered this settlement and are becoming friends for returning a kidnapped settler, rescuing a child and helping with one problem or another._

_**Quest status update:** Home Front Folly, location pending…_


End file.
